OF  A 

MILLION 
DOLLARS 


GEORGE 
•KIBBE- 
TURNER 


THE  BIOGRAPHY 
OF  A  MILLION  DOLLARS 


.  OF  CALIF.  LIBRARY.  LOS  ANGELES' 


WHAT    DO    I    LOOK    LIKE    TO    YOU  —  A    MAN    THAT   WILL    DOUBLE- 
CROSS    HIS    BEST    FRIEND  ?  ' ' 

FRONTISPIECE.     See  Page  162. 


THE  BIOGRAPHY 
OF  A  MILLION  DOLLARS 


BY 

GEORGE  KIBBE  TURNER 


WITH  ILLUSTRATIONS  BY 

F.  R.  GRUGER 


BOSTON 

LITTLE,  BROWN,  AND  COMPANY 
1918 


Copyright,  1918, 
BY  LITTLE,  BROWN,  AND  COMPANY 


All  rights  reserved 


Published,  February,  1918 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I  THE  MAN  WITH  THE  CARBURETOR    .     .       i 

II     PARTNERS 13 

III  THE  MORTGAGE 26 

IV  THE  HOODLUM 32 

V    ZETTA'S  RING 46 

VI    THE  BOWL 59 

VII    TOM'S  BOY 79 

VIII  A  MIRACLE  BY  THE  TAIL    .....     90 

IX  THE  LITTLE  PALE  BOOKKEEPER    .      .      .    100 

X    BACK  OF  THE  BANK in 

XI     AN  OPTION 124 

XII     A  MISTAKE 135 

XIII  A  SHARP  CORNER 149 

XIV  REORGANIZED 165 

XV    AN  ANNIVERSARY 176 

XVI     AN  EARLY  CREDITOR 192 

XVII  A  LITTLE  SOMETHING  ON  THE  SIDE     .      .   206 

XVIII     MUTUAL  PROTECTION         220 

XIX  A  DIFFERENCE  OF  OPINION     .     .     .     .231 

XX    WORD  FROM  NEW  YORK 254 

XXI    THE  MISSING  RUNABOUT 266 

XXII      A  HOUSEWARMING 279 

XXIII  A  MILLION  DOLLARS  —  HUH!     .     .     .  296 

XXIV  MY  LAWYER 311 

XXV    A  TRAVELER  RETURNS 318 

XXVI    MEMORIES 327 

XXVII     SUNDAY  AFTERNOON 337 

XXVIII    Two  PIECES  OF  PAPER 345 


2133213 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 


"What  do  I  look  like  to  you— a  man  that 

will  double-cross  his  best  friend  ?  "    .       Frontispiece 

"  You  know  what  she's  done  to  us  ?     She's 

busted  us  !     Wide  open  !  "   .       .       .       .   PAGE  107 

She  kissed  me— somewhere  on  the  northeast 

corner  of  my  ear 185 

"That's   why  I  thought  you  were  always 

wrong  —  because  you  hated  him  !"  .       .       "      291 


THE  BIOGRAPHY  OF  A 
MILLION  DOLLARS 

CHAPTER  I 

THE    MAN    WITH    THE    CARBURETOR 

Since  Pasc  Thomas  died  last  month  my  mind  keeps 
going  back  to  the  time  we  started  in  together  —  that 
dirty,  foggy,  February  evening  he  first  came  into  my 
old  bicycle  shop  on  Elm  Street  in  his  old  butternut 
colored  overcoat. 

"  Is  the  boss  in?  "  said  he. 

"  Right  here,"  said  I. 

"  Shut  the  door,  why  don't  you?"  said  that  Wil- 
kins  I  had  with  me  then.  He  was  always  dodging 
drafts  for  fear  of  catching  cold  —  and  he  always 
had  one. 

So  this  stranger  stepped  on  in,  and  shut  the  fog 
out  after  him. 

"  Well,  what  can  I  do  for  you?  "  said  I,  looking 
him  over. 

He  was  a  lean,  hungry  looking  man,  with  eyes  like 
a  ghost's.  In  that  old  flowing  overcoat  he  looked 
seven  feet  tall. 

"  I  got  something  here  I  want  to  show  you,"  he 
said,  and  pulled  out  this  small  carburetor  from  his 
pocket. 


2      The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

You  could  see  from  his  fingers  he  was  a  machinist. 

"  For  motor  cycles,"  he  said. 

'  You  get  it  up  yourself?  "  I  asked  him. 

I'd  seen  that  kind  before.  We  were  used  to  them. 
They  were  dropping  into  the  shop  all  the  time :  those 
lean,  leather-faced  Yankee  inventors  with  absent- 
minded  eyes  —  coming  in  showing  what  they'd  got- 
ten up,  all  kinds  of  things,  the  way  they  do  in  all 
machine  shops. 

"  Yes,"  he  said  to  me. 

"  Sit  down,"  said  I. 

"  We'll  be  closing  up  in  half  an  hour,"  said  Wil- 
kins. 

"I  won't  take  up  much  of  your  time,"  said  the 
man,  in  a  quick,  sharp  voice,  fastening  those  hungry, 
pale-blue  eyes  of  his  on  me. 

"  Sit  down,"  I  said  to  him  again;  "  let's  hear  what 
you  got." 

Anybody's  a  damned  fool,  I  always  claimed,  who 
won't  find  out  what  a  man  like  that's  got,  when  all  it 
costs  you  is  to  sit  still  and  listen.  How  can  you  tell 
what  new  idea  might  drift  in? 

"  What's  your  name?  "  I  asked  him.  He  looked 
pretty  seedy  to  me ;  about  all  in. 

'  Thomas  —  Pascal  Thomas,"  he  said. 

"  Mine's  Bill  Morgan,"  said  I.     "  Go  ahead." 

So  he  showed  me  the  thing,  and  I  took  it  up  in  my 
hand  —  that  little  brass  arrangement,  no  bigger  than 
a  teacup  —  not  so  big!  I  often  think  of  it. 

'You  familiar  with  them?"  he  asked,  watching 
me. 

11  Some.     I've  been  looking  into  this  motor-cycle 


The  Man  with  the  Carburetor  3 

business  some  lately,"  said  I,  "  thinking  there  might 
be  a  dollar  in  it." 

And  I  looked  the  thing  over. 

"  Uh-huh,"  I  said,  opening  it  up.  "  Well,  how 
does  it  work  in  actual  practice?  " 

"  First  class,"  he  said. 

"You  tried  it  out?"  I  asked  him. 

"  All  I  need  to,"  said  he,  and  went  on  explaining 
its  points  to  me.  "  I've  got  several  new  wrinkles 
here,  you'll  see,"  said  he,  touching  them  with  his 
long  fingers.  Two  of  them  off,  I  saw,  on  the  left 
hand. 

11  Well  now,"  I  said  finally,  "  to  sum  it  all  up  — 
just  what  have  you  got  here  that  the  other  fellow 
hasn't?" 

"  Speed,"  said  he,  lifting  up  those  queer  pale- 
blue  eyes  from  the  thing  a  second.  '  That's  what 
I've  got.  Speed." 

"  That's  a  darned  good  thing  to  have  these  days," 
said  I.  And  I  sat  there,  looking  at  the  carburetor, 
in  the  palm  of  my  hand  —  the  different  parts  of  it. 
It  looked  pretty  good  to  me.  And  yet  it  was  noth- 
ing I  could  do  anything  with,  by  itself.  But  it 
started  me  thinking. 

;'  What's  the  best  time  they've  made  with  them, 
up-to-date,  on  these  racing  tracks?"  I  asked  him, 
laying  it  down.  "  I  forget." 

"  Motor  cycles?" 

"Yeah." 

"  A  mile  a  minute,  about  —  just  a  few  seconds 
under." 

"  And  what  do  you  claim  you  could  do  with  this?  " 


4       The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

"  Two  miles." 

'*  Two  miles  a  minute !  " 

"Almighty  near." 

"  Yes,  you  can!  "  said  I. 

"  Look,"  he  said,  sitting  up  and  talking  straight 
into  my  face.  "  I'll  tell  you.  I  won't  lie  to  you. 
You've  brought  up  a  little  different  thing. 

"  To  begin  with,"  he  said,  going  on,  "  we'll 
understand  we  ain't  talking  about  my  carburetor 
now;  we're  talking  about  motor  cycles  —  how 
you're  going  to  get  two  miles  a  minute  out  of 
them." 

"  Yes,"  said  I,  watching  him. 

"  Now,  then,"  he  said,  "  I'll  tell  you," —  and  put 
his  hand  to  his  forehead  for  just  a  second.  Then 
he  reached  in  and  took  out  something  from  his  vest 
pocket,  and  began  to  chew  it.  I  thought  at  first  it 
was  tobacco,  and  then  I  saw  it  wasn't.  It  was  more 
white. 

"  Now,"  he  said,  "  I'll  tell  you.  In  the  first  place, 
you  understand,  I  don't  claim  that  it's  just  my  car- 
buretor that'll  do  all  this." 

I  didn't  say  anything.     I  let  him  talk. 

"  It's  a  combination  of  things,"  he  went  on,  "  that 
are  coming  along  at  this  time  —  that's  going  to 
change  the  whole  thing  over  —  make  an  entirely 
new  motor  cycle. 

"  First  of  all,  there's  this  carburetor  of  mine, 
we'll  say.  Or  some  form  of  multiple  jet  carbu- 
retor." 

"  To  shoot  more  gas  into  her,"  said  I. 

"  At  these  high  speeds  in  the  engines  now." 


The  Man  with  the  Carburetor  5 

"  Two  thousand  revolutions  a  minute,  ain't  it?  " 
said  I. 

"  Yes,  and  two  thousand  five  hundred." 

"  I  God,"  I  said.  "  That  seems  a  lot,  don't  it, 
when  you  think  of  it?  " 

"  They'll  go  higher,"  said  he.  "  And  then,"  he 
went  along,  "  the  second  thing;  there's  the  mag- 
neto, instead  of  the  battery,  the  way  they're  doing 
it  abroad  in  Europe." 

'  Yes,"  said  I,  listening.  That  man  knew  his 
business  —  you  could  tell  that,  just  hearing  him. 

"  And  then,  third,"  he  said.  "  There's  that  me- 
chanical intake  valve  they're  bringing  in  to  take  the 
place  of  that  mean  contrary  old  automatic  valve 
they've  had. 

'  Those  three  are  the  principal  things,"  he  said 
—  and  stopped. 

'  You  mean  to  say,"  I  said,  this  idea  flashing 
through  my  head,  "  they  could  take  these  three  im- 
provements, and  put  them  on  a  motor  cycle  that 
would  make  two  miles  a  minute." 

"  I  mean  to  say,"  he  answered  me,  "  the  time's 
come  when  you  can  put  all  the  power  on  two  wheels 
that  they  can  carry,  and  not  jump  clear  of  the 
ground  altogether." 

"  If  they  can,"  said  I,  "  the  man  that  does  it 
first's  got  a  barrel  of  money!  " 

"  Going  to  stay  here  all  night?  "  asked  this  Wil- 
kins  over  my  shoulder,  breaking  in  on  us. 

"  If  I  want  to,"  said  I. 

I'd  seen  him  getting  up  and  putting  on  his  over- 
coat and  his  gum  shoes  and  muffler. 


6       The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

"  Well,  lock  up  after  you,"  he  said,  "  I'm  going 
home." 

"  Go  ahead,"  said  I. 

But  he  didn't  go ;  he  stood  there,  mousing  around, 
listening  back  of  my  shoulder. 

"  I'll  tell  you  why,"  I  said,  going  along,  to  Pasc. 
"  What  they  want  in  this  country  now  is  speed. 
That's  the  United  States  of  it.  We've  all  of  us  got 
to  get  there  —  first." 

"  Correct,"  said  Pasc. 

"  You  know  that,  as  well  as  I  do,"  said  I. 
"  That's  what  they've  got  to  have.  Feet  were  out 
of  date  long  ago,"  said  I.  "  For  the  last  fifteen 
years  we're  all  going  rolling  around  on  wheels." 

"  Good  and  sure,"  said  he,  watching  me,  and 
chewing  slowly  on  whatever  it  was  he  had  in  his 
mouth. 

"  I've  watched  it  myself,"  I  said,  "  ever  since  I 
was  a  boy  in  the  old  bicycle  days.  Long  before  I 
got  into  this  business  here,  like  a  darned  fool  — 
too  late." 

"  Like  the  most  of  us,"  said  Pasc,  stopping  chew- 
ing. 

;'  They  were  the  first  speed  merchants,  as  the 
saying  goes,"  said  I,  "  those  bicycle  manufacturers. 
The  big  ones,"  I  said,  "  before  they  all  split  up  into 
little  assembling  shops  like  this.  They're  the  fel- 
lows that  first  got  us  up  on  to  wheels.  All  the  rest 
of  it  —  all  this  putting  on  an  engine  in  those  auto- 
mobiles and  motor  cycles  is  just  an  extension  on 
that  original  idea,  when  you  come  to  trace  it 
down." 


The  Man  with  the  Carburetor  7 

"  That's  right,"  said  he. 

"  Gripes,  the  money  those  fellows  —  those  bi- 
cycle manufacturers  around  here  —  made  in  those 
days.  Hundreds  of  thousands  —  yes,  millions 
every  year.  Millions,"  I  said,  "  in  ten  years.  All 
starting,  you  might  say,  from  nothing." 

"  And  back  again  to  nothing,"  said  Pasc,  with 
those  eyes  of  his  watching  me,  "  when  the  auto  came 
along  and  drove  them  out." 

"  All  speed,"  I  said,  "  that's  all  it  was.  Faster 
and  faster.  And  the  big  money  in  this  country  in 
the  next  ten  years  is  coming  just  where  it  did  in  the 
last  ten,  selling  speed  to  them.  There's  where  the 
money  is  now.  Gold  mines  are  a  back  number. 
They've  got  to  have  speed,  and  they've  got  to  have 
it  right  away,  when  they  want  it." 

"  We  put  in  an  engine  fifty  per  cent,  bigger,  any- 
how," said  Pasc,  nodding  his  head,  "  than  they  use 
in  Europe,  and  gear  them  up  accordingly." 

"  We've  got  to  go  faster,  and  faster  every  year," 
said  I. 

"  That's  what  they  want,"  said  he,  "  and  they'll 
have  it." 

"  I  God,  yes,"  said  I.  "  If  you  could  make  some 
machine  that  would  shoot  'em  out  of  a  gun,  they'd 
eat  it  up,  and  the  next  best  thing  to  that  is  a  motor 
cycle." 

I  could  see  Wilkins,  still  standing  mousing 
around  back  of  my  shoulder. 

"  And  so  I  say,"  I  went  along,  "  the  man  who 
could  start  first  making  them  go  two  miles  a  minute 
might  have  a  fortune." 


8       The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

"Who'd  want  'em?"  said  Wilkins,  breaking  in 
finally. 

"  Every  eighteen  dollar  a  week  kid,"  said  I,  "  that 
wants  to  get  out  Sundays,  and  take  breakfast  in 
Chicago,  and  dinner  at  the  South  Pole.  And  come 
back  and  put  her  up  in  the  front  hall  before  tea. 
Every  kid  that's  got  any  zip  to  him.  Oh,  I  know," 
I  said,  "  I've  been  there  myself." 

And  I  saw  Pasc  Thomas  grin  —  one  of  those  old, 
sudden  grins,  that  these  sober-faced  men  like  him 
break  out  into. 

"  Haven't  you?  "  I  asked  him. 

"  I  have,"  he  said,  the  wrinkles  closing  in  around 
his  mouth  again. 

"  I  don't  believe  there's  any  money  in  it,"  said 
Wilkins. 

"  And  I  know  there  is,"  said  I  flaring  up,  and 
saying  so  anyhow.  He  always  made  me  sick,  pour- 
ing cold  water  on  everything.  "  If  you  can  find  the 
man  who  could  do  what  this  man  says  they  can." 

!<  It  can't  be  done,"  said  Wilkins. 

'  You  can  do  it,"  said  Pasc  Thomas. 

;<  Who  can?"  I  said,  studying  him.  "Do  you 
know  anybody?  " 

"  I  can,"  said  Pasc  Thomas. 

"  You  sure  of  that?  "  said  I. 

"  I  ought  to  be,"  he  said.     "  That's  my  trade." 

"  Where  you  been  working?  " 

"  I've  been  with  the  Rajah  motor  cycle  people  for 
three  years  now." 

"Are  they  making  any  money?"  I  asked  him 
right  away. 


The  Man  with  the  Carburetor  9 

"  That  I  don't  know,"  said  he  flat.  "  That  ain't 
in  my  line."  You  couldn't  help  liking  the  man. 
Nine  out  of  ten  in  his  place  would  have  said  they 
were  getting  rich  there. 

"  I  don't  know  anything  about  the  financial  end," 
he  said,  "  but  I  do  know  that  machine,  inside  out  — 
every  nut,  and  screw  and  cotter  pin  in  her. 

"  I  got  something  here,"  he  said,  "  maybe'll  in- 
terest you."  And  he  dragged  this  odd  envelope  out 
of  his  inside  pocket.  "  Here's  their  machine,"  he 
said,  pointing  with  an  old  stub  of  a  lead  pencil  to 
a  drawing  on  the  back;  "  and  here's  how  the  one 
would  look  I'd  make  with  the  new  improvements 
on  it." 

And  then  he  handed  it  over  to  me.  I  couldn't 
make  much  out  of  it  then.  I  didn't  take  time  to. 

"  Look  here,"  said  I,  catching  fire  all  at  once. 
"  Do  you  want  to  take  a  chance  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  he  said.     "  What?  " 

"  I  tell  you  what  I'll  do  with  you,"  I  said  to  him. 
"  If  you'll  come  here  and  make  up  a  half  a  dozen 
of  those  machines  you've  been  talking  about,  we'll 
put  up  our  machinery  and  the  material  against  your 
time,  and  split  the  profits. 

"  What  do  you  say,"  said  I,  when  he  didn't  an- 
swer right  off.  "Will  you  do  it?  Will  you  take 
a  chance  on  your  own  stuff?  " 

"  Well,  yes,"  he  said.  And  I  could  see  his 
thin  lips  tighten  up.  "  I  guess  maybe  I  can  do 
it." 

"All  right  then,"  said  I.  "That's  settled." 
And  I  started  to  get  up. 


10     The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

"  Who  says  so?  "  said  this  Wilkins  from  back  of 
me,  all  at  once. 

"  I  say  so,"  said  I,  turning  around  and  facing 
him. 

"  Well,  I  guess  I'll  have  something  to  say  about 
that  before  you  do  it,"  said  he,  putting  his  hand  up 
to  his  lips  the  way  he  did  when  he  was  going  to  get 
contrary.  "  According  to  our  agreement." 

"  Oh,  forget  it,"  I  told  him.  "  Go  home  and 
sleep  it  off." 

"  I  mean  what  I  say,"  he  said,  standing,  looking 
down  at  me  through  his  glasses. 

"  So  do  I,"  said  I. 

"  It's  all  right  for  you,"  he  kept  along.  '  To 
take  a  chance  with  the  first  wild  thing  that  comes 
along." 

"  You  know  we've  got  to  do  something,"  I  said, 
coming  back  at  him;  "  you  know  that." 

"  It's  all  right  for  you,"  he  said,  "  but  it's  my 
money  in  here." 

"  Aw,  drop  it,"  I  said,  "  wait  till  we  get  alone." 

"  What  do  you  know  about  this  man,  anyhow?  " 
asked  Wilkins,  making  one  of  those  Susified  motions 
of  his. 

"  Don't  mind  him,"  I  said,  turning  around  to 
Pasc.  "  I've  got  the  say-so  here." 

"  Have  you  ?  "  said  Wilkins,  his  voice  getting 
thinner  and  higher,  and  more  old  womanish  every 
minute;  "we'll  see  whether  you  have  or  not." 

"  Oh,  stand  still,"  I  said,  "  and  hold  your  feet 
down."  Two  years  of  him  had  been  about  all 
I  could  stomach. 


The  Man  with  the  Carburetor          11 

"  You  can't  do  it,"  he  kept  saying,  "  that's  all. 
You  can't  do  it  —  without  my  consent." 

u  We'll  see  about  that,"  said  I,  stepping  toward 
him,  "  tomorrow.  Now,  you  shut  up." 

"  You  can't  scare  me,"  he  said,  backing  away. 

"  Scare  you,"  said  I. 

'  You  can't  scare  me,"  he  said  again,  with  a  kind 
of  break  in  his  voice. 

"  Don't  burst  into  tears,"  I  said.  "  Don't  get 
your  clothes  wet." 

"  You  can't  scare  me,"  he  said,  for  the  third 
time  —  his  voice  way  up.  '  You  can't  bulldoze 
me,  you  big  bulldozer,  you  —  you  big  bully!  " 

And  started  blabbing  out  before  that  stranger  all 
the  things  he'd  been  laying  up  against  me;  and  all 
our  private  affairs  —  the  money  he'd  put  in  on  my 
notes. 

"  Quit  it,"  I  told  him.     "  Go  on,  now;  quit." 

But  he  kept  right  along,  like  a  child  that  has  got 
started  crying  and  can't  stop,  turning  from  Pasc  to 
me  and  back  again. 

"  I  want  you  to  understand,"  he  said  to  him,  "  he 
can't  do  it.  He  hasn't  got  the  right.  You  can't 
do  it,"  he  said  to  me,  "  not  with  my  money  in 
here! 

"  I'll  take  out  my  money  first,  I'll  get  out.  I'm 
going  to  have  some  say  in  this  business,  or  I'll  get 
out." 

"  Get  out  then,"  said  I.  "  You  poor  old  female 
mule!" 

He  stood  there,  looking  at  me  through  his  spec- 
tacles; with  his  hair  all  brushed  just  so,  and  his 


12     The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

clean  collar  and  his  clean  white  bookkeeper's  hands 
down  by  his  sides. 

"  Get  out,"  I  said.  "  Take  your  three  thousand 
dollars;  and  your  gum  shoes,  and  your  mufflers,  and 
your  sniffles,  and  your  darned  Susie  ways  —  and 
get!" 

"  I  will,"  said  he. 

"  Go  to  the  devil,"  I  said. 

"  You'll  see,"  said  Wilkins. 

And  the  office  door  shut  after  him. 

"  I'll  be  here  tomorrow  for  my  money,"  he  said, 
coming  back  and  opening  it  part  way  again,  and 
then  stopped  and  thought  a  minute.  "  And  Fll  give 
you  just  two  months  to  bust  in,"  he  said. 

And  then  he  got  out  entirely,  and  left  us  two 
standing  there. 


CHAPTER  II 

PARTNERS 

We  stood  there  —  I  and  this  fellow  I'd  never 
seen  in  my  life  until  a  half  an  hour  before  —  facing 
each  other;  he  looking  at  me  and  I  looking  at  him. 

I've  seen  hundreds  like  him;  the  machine  shops 
of  New  England  are  full  of  them  —  still,  lean-faced 
men  that  don't  talk  till  they're  talked  to ;  these  long- 
faced,  lantern-jawed  fellows,  with  blue  eyes  peering 
out  over  their  shiny  cheek  bones,  that  have  gone  still, 
working  and  puzzling  around  machinery. 

He  stood  there  like  a  stone  fence ;  he  had  stopped 
that  slow  grinding,  even,  on  whatever  it  was  he  had 
in  his  mouth.  His  face  was  still  as  a  board,  as  we 
both  waited  there,  listening  to  Wilkins'  footsteps 
go  off  along  the  sidewalk. 

"  I  guess  you  won't  thank  me  much  for  coming  in 
here,"  said  he  to  me  finally. 

"Why  not?  "said  I. 

"  Losing  your  partner." 

"  Don't  let  that  worry  you,"  I  told  him.  "  I  was 
just  going  to  get  rid  of  him  anyhow."  I  wasn't, 
of  course,  but  I  had  to  say  so.  "  And  you  kept  me 
from  having  to  do  so." 

"  Well,  I  didn't  know,"  said  Pasc,  and  his  jaws 
started  working  again. 


14     The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

"  Sure,"  I  said.  "  I've  had  my  bellyful  of  him 
—  two  years." 

"  Well,  then,"  he  said,  and  set  those  hungry  eyes 
of  his  on  me  again,  "  is  it  going  to  be  all  right  to 
go  ahead  with  that  thing  we  were  talking  about  — 
those  motor  cycles?" 

"  Sure  thing,"  said  I.  "  Unless  you  want  to 
quit." 

"Quit?"  he  answered,  talking  slow.  "Me?" 
And  stopped  a  minute.  I  noticed  then  his  lips  were 
kind  of  apart. 

"  But  I  don't  want  to  lie  to  you,"  he  went  on 
again  —  talking  slower  yet,  as  if  it  was  hard  work 
getting  the  words  out.  "  I  don't  want  to  do  any- 
thing under  false  pretenses.  I  haven't  got  a  dollar 
that  I  could  put  into  it  myself  —  I  want  you  to  know 
that  on  the  start." 

"  You're  squarer'n  a  die,"  I  said  to  myself,  watch- 
ing him.  '  They  don't  make  many  like  you." 

I  noticed  that  he  was  kind  of  leaning  up  against 
the  desk. 

"  Oh,  that  will  be  all  right,"  I  said  out  loud. 

"  All  I've  got,"  said  he,  holding  out  that  car- 
buretor, "  is  this  right  here  and  my  shop  experi- 
ence." 

"  That'll  do,"  said  I.  "  If  you  make  good.  If 
you  make  good  —  if  this  thing  works  out  —  we  can 
fix  up  some  sort  of  partnership  in  it." 

"That'll  do,  will  it?"  said  he,  over  again,  as  if 
he  was  kind  of  tired.  "That'll  be  all  right?  — 
For  a  kind  of  partnership?" — and  made  a  kind 
of  a  grab  at  his  throat. 


Partners  15 

And,  bang!  He  keeled  over  on  the  office  floor. 
And  his  carburetor  rattled  out  of  his  hand  under 
the  desk. 

"  Here,  what's  this?  "  said  I,  dropping  down  on 
my  knees  beside  him. 

It  makes  me  laugh  when  I  think  of  it  —  this  long, 
lean  fellow  in  the  brown  overcoat,  looking  tougher 
than  an  old-fashioned  dried  codfish,  lying  there  on 
the  floor  —  keeled  over  in  a  dead  faint  —  and  me 
on  my  knees  trying  to  bring  him  out  of  it. 

But  he  came  to  right  away  and  opened  his  eyes. 

"  Here,"  said  I,  "  what's  the  matter  with  you?  " 

"  Oh,  nothing,"  he  said,  and  started  trying  to 
get  up. 

"  Lie  still,"  I  told  him,  and  slipped  the  leather 
seat  from  the  desk  chair  under  his  head.  And  I 
sat  in  the  chair  myself  and  watched  him. 

"  Gripes,  what  next?  "  said  I  to  myself.  "  This 
man  must  be  a  hoodoo.  First  he  comes  in  and 
drives  Wilkins  out  of  the  door,  and  then  he  flops 
over  on  the  floor  —  dead  on  my  hands." 

"  I  want  to  get  up,"  he  said,  struggling. 

"  No,  you  don't,"  I  told  him.     "  Lie  still." 

So  he  did,  for  a  while  longer. 

"Let  me  have  that,  will  you?"  he  said,  and  I 
handed  him  back  his  carburetor  from  under  the 
desk. 

u  What  struck  you?"  I  asked  him  finally. 

"  Oh,  nothing,"  he  said,  "  I  don't  know.  All 
of  a  sudden  I  felt  kind  of  faint." 

'  What  do  you  want  now?  "  I  asked  him.     I  saw 
he  was  trying  to  get  something  in  an  inside  pocket. 


16     The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

So  I  opened  up  his  coat  for  him,  and  he  reached 
in  his  hand  and  brought  out  what  he  was  after,  and 
broke  off  a  sliver,  and  started  chewing  it. 

"  Have  some?  "  he  said,  holding  it  out  toward  me. 

"What  is  it?" 

"  Slippery  elm,"  said  he.  "  Go  ahead.  Have 
some.  I  chew  it  all  the  time.  It's  fine  for  the 
stomach." 

I  have  to  laugh  now  when  I  think  about  it.  I 
suppose  he  was  kind  of  light-headed  and  wanted  to 
say  something  —  to  pass  it  off. 

"  No,  I  guess  not,"  I  said. 

I  sat  there  watching  him,  and  all  of  sudden  it 
struck  me  what  it  was  that  ailed  him. 

"  Look  here,"  I  said,  "  I  want  you  to  tell  me 
something." 

"What  is  it?" 

"  How  long  since  you  had  your  last  square 
meal?" 

"  Well,"  he  said,  "  I  had  a  little  — " 

"  No,"  said  I.     "  I  want  to  know !  " 

"  Well,"  he  told  me,  "  I  stopped  and  took  a  little 
something  at  a  lunch  cart." 

"When?" 

"  Last  night." 

"  Ah-hah,"  said  I.  "  What  was  it?  What  was 
it?"  I  said  again  before  he'd  answer  me. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  "  I  guess  I  had  a  cup  of  coffee, 
and  a  piece  of  squash  pie." 

"  Ah-hah,"  I  came  back.  "  Well,  I  guess  I  know 
something  that's  better  for  the  stomach  than  chew- 
ing slippery  elm," 


Partners  17 

And  I  went  out  and  got  a  cup  of  coffee  and  some 
sandwiches  at  the  quick-lunch  room  around  the  cor- 
ner. He  was  sitting  up  in  a  chair  when  I  got  back. 

"  That  coffee  did  me  good,"  he  said,  wiping  his 
mouth  off  when  he  was  done ;  and  looked  over  at  me. 

"  I  won't  lie  to  you,"  he  said,  "  I  was  just  about 
down  and  out.  That's  the  facts  in  the  case.  I  was 
almighty  near  starving.  I  never  did  anything  like 
that  in  my  life  before,"  he  said, — "  fainting," —  and 
stopped  a  minute. 

"  At  the  same  time,"  he  said,  "  I  don't  want  you 
to  get  the  idea  I'm  a  hobo  —  or  anything  like  that." 

"  I  don't,"  said  I.     "  Not  for  a  minute." 

"  No,"  he  said,  "  I'm  a  good  workman.  I'm  a 
first-class  machinist,  if  I  do  say  so." 

"  You  don't  have  to  tell  me  that,"  I  told  him. 

"  And  up  to  six  months  ago  I  made  my  $28.00  a 
week  regular.  Then  I  got  this  bug  in  my  head. 
I  got  up  this  carburetor." 

So  finally  he  told  me  about  himself,  dragging  it 
out  pretty  hard,  like  those  close-mouthed  ones  do. 

It  seemed  he'd  married  this  lively  good-looking 
girl  —  younger  than  he  was  apparently;  pretty 
young  and  full  of  life,  and  anxious  to  have  a  good 
many  things.  And  he  thought  maybe  he  could  do 
better  than  wages,  and  then  he  worked  out  this  car- 
buretor. So  he  sent  his  wife  home  to  her  folks  and 
started  out  with  a  couple  of  hundred  dollars  trying 
to  get  somebody  interested  in  it. 

"  I  wouldn't  give  it  up,"  he  said  to  me.  "  I 
wasn't  going  to  give  it  up  and  go  back  to  my  wife's 
mother  —  not  till  I  had  to,"  » 


18     The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

"  Naturally  not,"  said  I. 

"  But  I  almighty  near  had  to,"  he  told  me.  "  I 
got  down  to  this,"  he  said,  and  fished  out  three 
cents  and  a  green  street-car  transfer  from  his  over- 
coat pocket.  "  This  was  the  last  throw,"  he  said, 
"  when  I  happened  by  your  bicycle  shop  on  this  side 
street.  This  was  the  last  —  when  I  found  some- 
body who'd  listen  to  me,  finally. 

"  You  wouldn't  believe  me,"  he  said,  flaring  up 
a  little,  "  you  wouldn't  believe  me  if  I  told  you  what 
a  lot  of  fools  I  saw  in  this  business,  tramping 
around!  Tramping  around,"  he  said,  "  six  months, 
all  over,  stopping  into  offices,  trying  to  get  some 
of  these  apes  in  white  collars  that  run  these  big 
shops  to  stop  just  long  enough  to  look  at  it  once. 
By  Almighty!  "  he  said,  and  stopped,  staring. 

"  By  Almighty,  you're  the  first  human  being  I've 
talked  to  with  sense  in  the  whole  bunch  —  and  I'd 
be  grateful  to  you  —  if  for  nothing  else  —  for  just 
listening  to  me.  I  don't  know  but  I  appreciate  it 
more,"  he  said,  pointing  to  the  empty  coffee  cup, 
"  than  that. 

"  You  don't  know  what  it  is.  You  don't  know 
what  it  is,"  he  went  along,  "  to  go  day  after  day, 
tramping  around,  without  getting  anybody  that'll 
take  the  time  to  listen  to  you,  give  you  a  fair  hear- 
ing. It  certainly  is  almighty  humiliating.  And  es- 
pecially when  all  the  time,  you  know  you've  got 
something.  You  know  you've  got  something,"  he 
said,  reaching  his  hand  in  his  pocket  on  to  that  car- 
buretor, "  that  might  make  them  rich  —  and  you 
too." 


Partners  19 

And  then  he  stopped  short. 

"  I  guess  I  got  a  little  excited,"  he  said,  apolo- 
gizing, and  got  up  on  his  feet.  "  I  guess  it's  time 
I  was  going." 

"  Where'll  you  go  to?"  I  asked  him. 

"  I  don't  know  exactly." 

"  I  guess  you  don't,"  said  I,  and  passed  him  a 
couple  of  dollars. 

"  How  do  you  know  you'll  ever  see  that  again?  " 
he  said,  staring  at  it. 

"  I'm  not  worrying,"  said  I. 

"  Well,"  he  said  —  and  stopped  there,  stock- 
still. 

"  Come  around  tomorrow  morning,"  said  I, 
"  and  start  in." 

But  he  didn't  move.  He  stood  there  with  the 
money  in  his  hands. 

"  Look  here,"  he  said,  "  what  are  you  getting 
out  of  this?  What  can  you  be  sure  of?  " 

"  I'll  be  getting  a  share  in  a  damned  good  car- 
buretor, as  I  understand  it,"  said  I.  "  And  a  first- 
class  machinist  who  knows  motor  cycles,  to  get  a 
brand  new  thing  out  —  on  brand  new  lines.  If  it 
goes  through,"  I  said,  "  I  win  big.  If  it  don't, 
all  I  lose  is  some  material  and  time,  and  a  few 
weeks'  machinist's  wages,  while  you're  working  on 
it. 

"  If  that  suits  you,"  I  said,  waiting.  But  his 
Adam's  apple  only  went  up  and  down.  He  didn't 
say  anything. 

But  finally  he  put  the  money  in  his  pocket. 

"  At  seven  tomorrow  morning,"  I  said. 


20     The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

"  Well,  all  right,"  he  answered,  and  kind  of  hesi- 
tated, as  if  there  was  something  else  he  was  going 
to  say. 

"  All  right,"  he  said  a  second  time,  and  went  out 
without  saying  anything  more. 

"  Gripes,"  I  said  to  myself,  sitting  there  when 
he  was  gone.  "  This  will  be  about  enough  for  me 
for  one  evening." 

For  I  saw  right  off  what  this  thing  was  going  to 
mean  to  me.  That  Wilkins  and  I  were  through. 
That  poor  mule  would  have  his  money  out  now, 
anyhow.  And  if  he  didn't,  I'd  make  him.  We 
hadn't  made  a  dollar  the  last  two  years.  And  we 
hated  each  other  like  the  two  men  who  were  hand- 
cuffed together  on  the  desert  island  with  nothing  to 
eat. 

I  saw  then  I'd  have  to  have  some  money  quick. 
But  the  question  was,  where  was  the  money  coming 
from?  I  couldn't  get  it  at  the  bank,  that  was  sure 
—  not  then;  not  in  the  bicycle  business.  I  sat  and 
wrestled  with  it;  and  the  more  I  looked,  the  clearer 
I  saw.  There  was  only  one  way.  I'd  got  to  get 
Polly  to  let  me  put  a  mortgage  on  the  house.  I 
hated  to  do  it  too.  I  hated  to  drag  her  into  it  — 
to  put  up  the  only  thing  she  had. 

"  But  I  don't  see,"  I  said,  "  looking  at  it  the  worst 
way  you  can,  that  we'd  be  any  worse  off  than  we 
are  now.  The  bicycle  business  would  go  on  just  as 
it  was  now;  and  this  man's  salary  won't  come  to  so 
much  as  Wilkins'  did.  And  what  his  material  would 
be  wouldn't  be  much. 

"  On  the  other  hand,"  I  said,  "  this  may  be  the 


Partners  21 

chance  of  a  lifetime  —  if  he  could  do  what  he  says 
he  can." 

And  I  went  over  in  my  mind  the  figures  I'd  made 
before  on  the  motor-cycle  business.  "  There's  a 
barrel  of  money  in  it,  I  believe,"  I  said  to  myself  — 
"  a  good  big  thing  for  the  man  who  can  jump  in 
right  now,  and  jam  it.  If  you  could  only  sell  quar- 
ter the  number  of  them  that  we  put  out  of  wheels 
today.  Christmas ! 

"  And  I  believe  we  can  do  it,"  I  said  to  myself. 
"  Start  easy,  and  work  it  up.  I  believe  it  can  be 
done. 

"We'll  do  it,  too,"  I  said.  "We've  got  to." 
And  I  got  up.  I  heard  somebody  out  in  the  shop. 
And  I  looked  up  at  the  clock. 

"  Good  Lord,"  I  said. 

It  was  seven  o'clock,  and  old  Tom  Powers  was 
coming  around,  giving  the  place  its  first  look-over 
for  the  night.  He'd  been  night  watchman  in  the 
building  for  several  years  now.  A  good  capable 
mechanic  once,  but  his  right  hand  was  taken  off  in 
a  belt,  so  he  wasn't  any  good  on  a  machine  any 
longer.  And  they  gave  him  this  job  as  night  watch- 
man. 

"  Hello,  Tom,"  said  I. 

"Hello  yourself,"  said  Tom.  "What  time's 
this  to  be  getting  home?  You'll  get  a  good  warm- 
ing when  your  wife  sees  you." 

"  That's  right,  too,"  said  I. 

I  always  liked  the  old  man.  He  was  a  queer 
old  devil.  Some  of  them  would  tell  you  he  wasn't 
quite  right  in  his  head.  He  had  this  invention  of 


22     The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

his,  the  Miracle  we  used  to  call  it  —  from  some- 
thing he  said  once  —  jollying  him;  this  perpetual 
motion  machine  he  worked  on  there  nights:  A 
kind  of  a  small  model  that  he  had,  a  queer  looking 
thing,  like  a  little  windmill,  with  arms  that  folded  up 
and  flapped  out  again  when  you  set  it  whirling. 

I  never  made  out  myself  whether  at  the  bottom 
of  his  heart  he  took  it  seriously,  or  whether  it  was 
just  something  to  keep  his  mind  from  going  loose 
while  he  was  alone  in  there  nights,  with  those  long 
still  rows  of  machinery.  It  must  have  got  pretty 
lonesome  in  those  empty  shops  nights,  thinking, 
knowing  you  had  your  right  hand  gone.  And  I 
always  thought  probably  he  was  like  a  lot  of  those 
other  fellows  that  get  crippled  up  in  machine  shops. 
They  naturally  want  to  make  themselves  feel  they're 
some  use  yet,  if  they  are  gone  physically;  and  that 
starts  them  trying  to  think  out  something  —  some 
invention.  Anyhow,  in  most  ways  old  Tom  was 
sharp  as  a  briar;  and  as  well  posted  as  anybody. 
He  had  so  much  time  to  read  the  papers. 

I  often  asked  him  what  he  thought  of  things,  and 
I  thought  I'd  start  him  up  that  night. 

"  You've  got  competition,  Tom,"  said  I. 

"What's  that?" 

"  Another  fellow's  been  in  today  with  another 
Miracle." 

"Another  one?     That  all?" 

"  Yes,"  I  told  him. 

"What's  this  one  got?  What's  he  been  trying 
to  do?" 

And  I  told  him. 


Partners  23 

"  Do  you  know  what  I  think  I'm  going  to  do, 
Tom?  "  I  said.  "  I'm  going  to  start  him  off.  I'm 
going  to  see  if  I  can't  have  a  crack  at  the  motor- 
cycle business.  There  might  be  big  money  in  it  — 
what  do  you  think?  " 

'  What  have  you  got  that's  new?  "  he  said,  look- 
ing at  me.  He  was  a  queer  looking  old  fellow. 
He  had  a  face  thin  as  an  old  skeleton,  and  a  kind 
of  big  bulging  forehead;  and  cheeks  sunk  in  over 
his  jaw.  When  he  grinned  you  saw  half  of  his 
teeth  were  gone. 

"  We  can  make  one,  so  he  claims,  that'll  stand 
up  one  hundred  per  cent,  better  than  they  do  now." 

"  Can  you !  "  said  Tom. 

u  And  go  fifty  per  cent,  faster  —  anyhow." 

"  That'll  do  it,"  said  Tom,  looking  up.  "  That's 
what  they're  after  —  sixty  —  eighty  —  a  hundred 
miles  an  hour!  " 

"  Could  we  sell  them  —  if  we  could  do  it?  " 

"  Sell  'em,  yes.  Every  kid'll  want  one  right 
away.  Why  wouldn't  they?  Hop  on  your  own 
kerosene  can  and  over  to  Chiny  and  back  in  one  day; 
scampering  around  the  world  like  the  devil  on  a 
stick.  Sure  they'll  want  one !  " 

"  We'd  have  thought  it  was  a  miracle  at  that," 
said  I,  "  when  we  were  kids." 

"  So  it  is,"  said  he.  "  So's  most  everything  now- 
adays. That's  the  business  we're  all  in  —  miracles. 
The  only  trouble  with  'em  is  they  don't  last.  This 
one'll  be  a  back  number  ten  years  from  now,  just 
like  the  bicycle  is  today.  There's  something  new 
coming  along  all  the  time." 


24     The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

"  You're  right,"  said  I.  "  You  got  to  keep 
humping  to  keep  up  with  the  procession  nowadays." 

"  I  was  reading  in  the  paper  just  this  morning," 
said  Tom,  "  about  those  Wright  boys,  down  in 
Dayton,  Ohio,  starting  over  to  France  to  show 
them  how  to  fly  in  the  air." 

"  Yes,  I  saw  that,"  said  I. 

"  They  was  in  the  bicycle  business,  you  notice, 
like  the  rest  of  us." 

"  Yes,  but  that  won't  go  very  far,"  said  I. 
"  There's  a  catch  in  that  thing." 

"  It'll  be  the  coming  thing  ten  years  from  now  — 
when  your  machine  will  be  a  back  number  —  and 
mine,"  he  said  —  and  grinned  his  old  grin  like  an 
old  skeleton,  with  half  the  lower  teeth  gone.  He 
always  joked  about  his  contrivance. 

"  But  there's  one  thing  you  got  to  remember," 
he  said.  "  By  that  time  we'll  both  have  made  our 
million,  and  be  retired." 

"  That's  right,  Tom,"  said  I.  "  Why  wouldn't 
we  make  a  dollar  some  day  —  like  the  rest  of 
them?" 

"  That's  right,  why  wouldn't  we,"  said  he,  with 
that  death's  head  grin. 

"  But  there's  one  thing,"  I  said,  "  you  want  to  re- 
member !  I've  got  an  option  on  some  of  that  stock, 
when  you  get  the  old  Miracle  on  the  market." 

"  You'll  have  it,"  said  he. 

"  She's  going  fine,  ain't  she,"  said  I.  "  She's 
working  out  all  right?  " 

"  She's  going  good,"  he  said.  "  I  can't  com- 
plain," with  that  kind  of  dry  old  crafty  grin  upon  his 


Partners  25 

face  he  had  sometimes.  I  never  could  make  out 
whether  he  was  laughing  or  not. 

"  She'll  start  some  of  these  days,"  he  said. 
"  And  I'll  come  around  and  surprise  you." 

"  You  won't  surprise  me  any,  Tom,"  said  I,  spat- 
ting him  on  the  back.  The  poor  old  devil ! 

"  Go  on  now,"  said  Tom.  "  The  wife'll  be  wait- 
ing. Go  along.  I'll  lock  up  after  you." 

So  I  went,  and  he  locked  up;  and  went  back  again, 
I  suppose,  when  I  was  gone,  and  started  pecking 
away  with  his  old  left  hand  at  his  little  old  perpetual 
motion  machine,  back  alone  in  the  shop.  And  I 
went  along  home,  thinking  how  I'd  put  the  thing  — 
about  the  mortgage  —  to  Polly. 


CHAPTER  III 

THE    MORTGAGE 

"  The  —  This  is  a  nice  time  to  be  getting  home," 
said  Polly,  coming  to  the  door  with  two  red  spots  in 
her  cheeks,  and  that  little  hitch  in  her  voice  she  had 
when  she  was  mad  or  excited. 

"  I  know  it,"  said  I.  "  But  had  a  fellow  come  in 
just  as  we  were  closing  up  that  I  had  to  wait  for." 

"  I  guess  if  you'd  tried  hard,  you  could  have  got 
rid  of  him,"  said  Polly,  kissing  me  finally. 

"  You've  got  to  stop  this,  Bill,"  she  said.  "  It 
turns  everything  upside  down  in  the  house,  and  you 
know  it." 

"  I  apologize,"  said  I. 

"  That  won't  do  my  dishes  for  me,"  said  Polly, 
going  out  in  the  kitchen  for  my  supper. 

So  we  didn't  talk  much  while  I  was  eating.  Both 
the  kids  were  in  bed;  and  we  sat  there  alone. 

''  Who  was  it,"  she  asked  me  finally,  when  she 
thought  I'd  had  punishment  enough.  '  This  man 
who  came  in  to  see  you  ?  " 

"  Oh,  a  fellow  came  in,"  I  said,  "  who  had  a  new 
idea  for  a  motor  cycle." 

"  Another  one  of  those  cranks  with  frayed  cuffs,  I 
suppose,"  she  said,  "  that  come  in  every  week  with  a 
fortune." 

"  Maybe,"  said  I. 


TJie  Mortgage  27 


And  I  helped  her  clear  off  the  table,  and  went  back 
and  sat  down  and  smoked  and  thought  it  over  while 
she  did  the  dishes. 

"  Tell  me  about  it,"  said  Polly,  coming  back,  and 
sitting  on  a  stool  beside  me  —  come  around  again, 
good-natured  as  usual. 

So  I  kissed  her,  and  told  her  what  happened. 

"  Poor  fellow!  "  she  said,  staring,  and  getting  red 
when  I  told  her  about  his  flopping  over  on  the  floor. 
"  Why  —  why  didn't  you  bring  him  home?  " 

"  Oh,  I  fixed  him  out  just  as  well,  I  guess,"  I 
said. 

"Did  he  have  anything  you  could  use?"  she 
wanted  to  know.  And  I  told  her  about  his  improve- 
ments he  had  on  the  motor  cycle;  and  what  old  Tom 
had  to  say  about  it. 

"  Well,  I  always  thought  myself  they  were  a  kind 
of  a  miracle,"  said  Polly,  "  tearing  around  the  way 
they  do.  I  wish  father  was  here,  sometimes,  just  to 
hear  what  he'd  say  when  he  saw  one.  But  they  are, 
anyway,  that's  what  I  always  think,  when  I  see  one 
—  just  a  miracle." 

"  Well,  I  hope  this  one  will  blossom  out,"  said  I, 
"  into  a  full-fledged  one." 

"Why?  "said  Polly. 

"  Because  it'll  be  our  miracle,  if  it  does,"  I  said. 
"  It'll  be  our  own  meat." 

"  What  do  you  mean?  "  she  asked  me,  sitting  up 
and  looking  at  me  over  the  arm  of  the  chair. 

"  I've  arranged  with  this  fellow  that's  got  the 
thing  to  make  up  one  or  two  for  us  on  trial.  And 
if  they  turn  out  right,"  I  said,  "  we're  in  on  the 


28     The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

ground  floor,  without  any  expense  to  us.  It  might 
make  a  barrel  of  money  for  us;  it  might  make  us 
rich." 

"  I  don't  see  why  it  shouldn't,"  said  Polly. 
"  Other  people  have  luck. 

"  I  hope  so,"  she  went  on,  patting  my  hand  on  the 
chair  arm.  "  I  hope  you  make  all  the  money  there 
is,  Bill.  It's  about  your  turn.  You've  had  your 
share  of  the  other  thing  these  last  few  years  in  that 
old  bicycle  business." 

''  There's  no  money  in  it  any  longer,"  I  said  for 
the  millionth  time.  "  We  got  into  it  too  late." 

"  I  know  it,"  said  Polly. 

"  It's  about  as  profitable  now  as  a  deserted  gold 
mine,"  I  told  her. 

"  And  about  as  cheerful,  you  poor  old  Bill,"  said 
Polly,  patting  my  hand  again,  and  laying  her  face 
against  it.  "  Especially  for  a  man  who's  so  up  and 
coming,  naturally,  and  anxious  to  get  on  as  you 
are. 

"  I  wonder  what  it  would  seem  like,"  she  said 
finally,  kind  of  dreaming,  "  to  have  all  the  money 
you  want.  I  wonder  sometimes.  I  wonder  if  we'd 
be  any  happier  with  a  hundred  thousand  dollars  and 
a  big  house  than  we  are  right  here  in  this  little  house 
on  Collins  Street." 

"  I  wouldn't  mind  trying  it  once,"  I  told  hej>. 

"  I  don't  know  how  /  could  be  —  much !  "  she 
said  sighing. 

And  then  we  went  upstairs. 

I  didn't  say  anything  more  till  we  were  fixed  in 
bed. 


The  Mortgage  29 


"  Now,  here,  Mother,"  I  said  then,  "  I've  got 
something  else  to  tell  you.  I  didn't  tell  you  every- 
thing." 

"  Wh-what  is  it  now?  "  she  came  back,  her  voice 
sharpening  up.  "What  is  it?" 

"  Wilkins  is  going  to  get  through." 

"What!" 

u  And  take  his  money  out." 

"What,"  she  said.  "What  for?  What's  he 
going  to  do  that  for?" 

So  I  told  her. 

"  That  old  pig,"  she  said.  "  That  old  disgust- 
ing thing.  I  always  did  hate  him." 

"  You  don't  any  worse  than  I  do,"  I  said,  "  nor 
so  much.  But  that  don't  get  us  anywhere." 

"  I  suppose  it  don't,"  she  said. 

"  We've  got  to  raise  the  money  for  those  notes 
of  his." 

"  How  are  we  going  to  do  it?  "  she  asked,  her 
voice  still  clearer  and  higher. 

"  You  tell  me,"  said  I. 

"  Can't  you  get  it  at  the  bank?  "  she  asked  me. 

"  No,"  I  said.  "  Not  any  more  than  that  first 
loan  —  that  thousand  dollars  I  had  at  the  start. 
If  I  could,  I'd  never  had  Wilkins  in  the  first  place. 
No,  there's  nothing  from  the  banks  —  not  in  the 
bicycle  business,  since  the  slump !  " 

"What  will  you  do  then?" 

"  I  don't  know,"  I  said.  "  Unless  you  want  to 
let  me  put  a  mortgage  on  the  house !  " 

She  was  sitting  up  in  bed  before  I  was  through 
saying  it. 


30     The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

"  Never,  never,  never,"  she  said.  "  A  mortgage 
on  this  house  !  Never." 

And  I  didn't  say  anything. 

"  How  could  you  think  of  such  a  thing?  "  she 
said.  "  Father's  old  place!  " 

I  didn't  answer  her. 

"  The  only  thing  we've  got  sure  —  for  the  chil- 
dren," she  said,  taking  hold  of  my  arm.  "  And 
when  you  know  how  I  feel  about  a  mortgage.  Any- 
thing but  that,  Bill.  Anything  but  a  mortgage! 
No,  sir!" 

I  kept  still. 

"I  won't  do  it,  Bill!  I  can't!"  she  went  on. 
"  You  know  it.  It  would  half  kill  me.  Oh,  why 
don't  you  say  something!  "  she  called  out  to  me, 
shaking  my  arm. 

"What  is  there  to  say?"  said  I.  "If  you 
can't  stand  for  a  mortgage,  that's  all  there  is  to 
it." 

And  she  kept  still  now. 

"  I  can  go  back,  I  suppose,  and  lie  down  in  front 
of  Wilkins,  if  he'll  let  me !  "  I  said.  "  I  guess  he'll 
have  to,  for  that  matter.  And  we  can  keep  on  the 
way  we  are  now  —  sliding  down  hill  —  year  after 
year  —  year  after  year. 

"  On  the  other  hand,"  I  said,  "  if  I  took  the  bi- 
cycle business  back  myself,  I  know  it  pretty  well; 
and  if  worst  came  to  worst,  I  believe  I  could  clear 
myself,  and  get  out  whole.  And  in  the  meanwhile 
there's  a  chance  in  the  other  thing  —  maybe  the 
chance  of  a  lifetime.  It  isn't  impossible,"  I  said. 
"  It  isn't  as  if  fortunes  hadn't  been  made  time  and 


The  Mortgage  31 


time  again  out  of  machine  shops  in  things  with  no 
more  promise  in  than  this." 

She  sat  perfectly  rigid.  I  could  just  see  her, 
against  the  wall,  sitting  up  white  beside  me. 

"  But  that's  up  to  you,"  I  said.  "  I  believe  it 
would  be  all  right.  I  believe  if  you  wanted  to  stand 
for  it  —  in  two  or  three  years  —  if  you  wanted  to 
come  in  and  stick — " 

"If  — if  I'll  stick,  Bill.  If  I'll  stick!"  said 
Polly,  sitting  there  like  a  ramrod.  "  You  say  that 
again,  and  I'll  scratch  your  eyes  out!  " 

So  the  next  day  I  handed  Wilkins  his  money. 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE    HOODLUM 

We  made  up  the  first  one  with  our  own  hands, 
you  might  say.  All  the  stationary  parts  of  the 
engine  were  cast  special.  We  even  bent  the  tubing 
on  the  frame  ourselves  to  be  sure  and  have  it  right 
and  plenty  strong.  Then  we  took  her  out  on 
Breakneck  Hill,  and  tried  her. 

"  She's  good,  Pasc,"  said  I,  when  we  came  back 
with  her.  "  She's  good." 

She  took  it  like  a  bird. 

"  I'm  glad  you  like  her,"  said  Pasc. 

"I  certainly  do!"  said  I.  "We've  got  some- 
thing there,  and  don't  you  forget  it." 

"  She  does  pretty  well,"  he  said. 

"  She's  got  the  power  right  in  her.  She's  got 
power  enough  to  tear  open  any  ordinary  machine 
like  that  Rajah,  like  you  would  an  envelope." 

"  That's  why  I  built  her  so  strong,"  said  Pasc. 

"  She's  got  the  power,"  I  said;  "  she's  got  the 
strength;  she's  got  the  reliability.  She's  a  wonder 
—  she's  there  !  " 

"  I'm  glad  you  think  so,"  said  Pasc,  chewing 
faster  than  usual  on  his  slippery  elm. 

"  That  settles  it,"  said  I.  "  We're  going  to  get 
in  back  of  this  thing,  and  we're  going  to  drive  it." 

I'd  been  thinking  and  figuring  day  and  night  on 
the  thing. 


The  Hoodlum  33 


u  I  tell  you  what  I'm  going  to  do,"  I  said.  "  I'm 
going  to  run  out  the  bicycles  just  as  fast  as  I  can; 
get  rid  of  them,  and  the  bicycle  business,  and  get 
right  after  this." 

"Ain't  you  hurrying  things  a  little  mite?"  said 
Pasc. 

"  No,"  I  said.  "  I  know  where  I  can  place  these 
bicycles,  all  right  now;  and  get  a  little  something 
for  the  business,  and  it  may  be  some  time  before  I 
get  another  such  a  chance.  There's  no  risk  in  that. 
I'm  glad  to  get  out  so  well.  There  never  will  be 
any  money  in  it.  That  day's  gone  by. 

"  But  in  this  thing,"  I  said,  "  there's  a  good  big 
chance.  Take  it  at  the  worst.  If  we  only  sold 
three  hundred  of  them  a  year,  we'd  make  a  good 
nice  thing  out  of  it. 

"  No,"  I  said.  "  I'm  doing  the  right  thing,  and 
I'll  tell  you  why —  another  reason.  The  man  that 
grabs  this  thing  —  these  new  improvements  we've 
got  —  has  got  to  go  after  it  hard.  It  won't  be 
lying  around  long.  There's  no  real  binding  patent 
on  it  —  except  maybe  on  your  carburetor." 

"  I  guess  maybe  you're  right,"  said  Pasc. 

"  I  know  I  am,"  said  I. 

So  we  did;  we  went  right  after  it,  day  and  night. 
We  hardly  took  our  clothes  off  to  go  to  bed.  We 
decided  to  make  up  six  machines  to  start  with. 
And  while  I  was  making  up  the  last  of  the  bicycles, 
Pasc  Thomas  was  getting  the  first  of  the  motor 
cycles  for  market.  We  decided  finally  we'd  call 
her  the  Hoodlum  —  just  the  opposite,  you  might 
say,  of  the  Rajah.  We  thought  the  name  would 


34     The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

strike  the  young  fellows  just  as  well  as  that  did  — 
better.  It  was  Pasc's  wife's  idea  mostly. 

We  sold  this  six  —  first  three,  and  then  two  and 
then  one  more,  to  young  bloods  around  the  town 
who  wanted  something  special  —  extra  good.  And 
they  were  good;  everybody  that  saw  them  said  so. 

"  But  all  in  town,"  said  Pasc.  "  We  don't  get 
any  orders  from  outside." 

"That  don't  worry  me,"  I  said.  "That  will 
come  later.  Give  them  a  little  time,  and  they'll 
advertise  themselves.  They'll  get  started.  We 
haven't  really  tried  to  push  them  outside  yet.  I'm 
not  worrying." 

So  we  went  ahead,  and  made  up  six  more;  and 
after  that  I  had  something  to  worry  about! 

'  This  won't  do,"  I  said,  when  we  footed  up  the 
cost  of  the  things.  We  weren't  making  a  dollar; 
we  were  both  working  our  heads  off  and  not  making 
day  wages  —  turning  them  out  separate,  by  hand 
that  way. 

"  I  tell  you  what  I  can  do,"  said  Pasc.  "  If  you 
let  me  go  ahead  and  make  up  forty  at  a  time,  I 
could  save  you  thirty  dollars  on  a  machine  right 
there." 

"  Go  ahead  and  do  it,"  said  I. 

"  Can  we?  "  he  asked. 

"  Yes,  I  think  so,"  I  said.  "  With  what  came  in 
from  the  bicycle  business  and  what  credit  we  can 
get  on  material." 

Forty  was  going  to  be  quite  a  strain  for  us,  I 
knew  that.  It  meant  we  had  eight  thousand  dol- 
lars pretty  near  tied  up  in  the  things  before  we  got 


The  Hoodlum  35 


through.  It  meant  a  second  mortgage  on  the  house, 
finally. 

"  Go  ahead,"  Polly  said  to  me.  "  I  throw  up 
my  hands.  Go  ahead.  We  might  as  well  be  hung 
for  a  sheep  as  a  lamb." 

"You're  a  good  sport,  Pol!  "  I  said,  when  she 
fixed  it  up  for  me. 

"  I  have  to  be,"  she  said,  "  living  with  you." 

Way  down  in  the  bottom  of  her  heart  she  was  as 
strong  for  the  thing  as  I  was  —  talking  about  it  all 
the  time.  That  was  about  all  we  did  talk  about 
those  days  —  the  Hoodlum.  We  had  it  for  break- 
fast, dinner  and  supper. 

"  The  only  thing  is,"  she  said,  "  can  you  sell  it?  " 

"Sell  it,"  I  said.  "I  certainly  can.  Why 
wouldn't  I?  It  can  spin  circles  around  anything 
that's  made." 

'  Those  other  people  with  the  Rajah  have  got 
such  a  start,  that's  all,"  she  said. 

'  You  watch  me  sell  it,"  I  said. 

But  just  the  same,  I  didn't.  I  had  no  luck  with 
the  dealers  out  of  town. 

;<  We  don't  know  it,"  they  said  to  me.  "  It  may 
be  the  best  in  the  world.  But  it's  new,  that's  all." 

Finally  the  best  thing  I  could  do  was  to  put  it  in 
with  a  dozen  or  more  dealers  I  knew  were  reliable 
on  consignment.  And  then  they  didn't  seem  to  sell 
—  only  a  few  right  there  at  home. 

Finally  it  got  along  toward  August,  and  it  was 
plain  we'd  have  to  do  something  before  long. 
Our  accounts  were  coming  due;  and  our  balances 
were  way  down  at  the  bank. 


36     The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

We  did  our  banking,  like  a  good  many  of  the 
people  in  the  bicycle  trade  had,  with  Proctor  Bill- 
ings' bank  —  the  Second  National  —  coming  in 
when  his  father,  old  man  Billings,  was  alive. 

On  the  first  of  August  that  little  bookkeeper,  that 
girl  I'd  got  out  of  business  college,  after  Wilkins 
left,  came  back  in  the  afternoon  from  the  bank,  and 
said: 

"  The  teller  said  to  tell  you  that  Mr.  Billings  sent 
word  to  you  he  wished  you'd  fatten  up  your  balance 
a  little  bit;  it's  been  pretty  low  lately." 

That  didn't  sound  good  to  me  —  the  way  things 
were  moving.  We  only  had  a  loan  of  a  thousand 
dollars  there;  but  we  certainly  needed  that.  And 
I  had  been  figuring  and  figuring  on  how  I  could  get 
it  up  in  the  fall.  And  now  I  was  afraid  he  might 
close  down  on  us  entirely. 

"  Couldn't  you  go  to  Proctor  Billings,"  said  Pasc, 
"  and  show  him  how  you're  fixed.  Tell  him  what 
the  prospects  are,  when  we  once  get  started." 

"  Show  him,"  I  said.  "  That's  the  last  thing  I'd 
do !  Proctor  Billings !  That  tailormade  dude. 
He'd  close  on  you,  as  quick  as  he'd  close  his  hand. 
Go  to  him!  That's  what  the  old  bicycle  manufac- 
turers did  to  his  father.  And  you  know  what  hap- 
pened to  them." 

"  I've  heard  more  or  less,"  said  Pasc. 

"  He  cleaned  them  out,  that's  all,"  said  I.  "  He 
ruined  them.  They  always  claimed  they'd  have 
pulled  through,  if  he  hadn't  started  the  thing.  And 
he'd  done  their  banking  for  years,  for  ten  years  — 
and  made  himself  rich  out  of  it.  But  he  jumped  on 


The  Hoodlum  37 


them  first  when  the  time  came.     He  got  his  money; 
and  he  was  about  the  only  one  who  did. 

"That's  the  danger  in  this  thing,  Pasc,"  I  said; 
"  what  we're  up  against  all  the  time.  I  wish  a  thou- 
sand times  it  wasn't;  I  wish  there  was  some  way 
you  could  just  go  ahead  and  make  a  good  thing 
and  sell  it  —  and  not  spend  three  quarters  of  your 
time  figuring,  figuring  how  you're  going  to  get 
money  to  do  it  with.  Money  —  that's  always  the 
trouble.  And  especially  when  you're  doing  business 
with  people  like  that  Billings  crowd. 

"  Oh,  I  know  them,"  I  said,  "  father  and  son  — 
I've  watched  them  for  years.  And  they're  as  like 
as  the  Indians  on  two  copper  cents.  Only  this  one 
now  wears  more  expensive  clothes,  and  has  more 
college  educated  manners.  But  underneath,  neither 
one  of  them  ever  had  any  more  bowels  than  a  file. 

"  But  don't  fret,  Pasc,"  said  I.  "  Everything's 
been  running  against  us  so  far;  but  there's  got  to 
come  a  change  pretty  quick.  Sooner  or  later  some- 
thing's got  to  break  in  our  favor.  It  can't  run 
against  you  all  the  time." 

I  counted,  of  course,  on  some  sales  coming  in 
from  somewhere.  But  they  didn't.  Instead  of 
that,  right  away  that  next  week,  the  machines  be- 
gan coming  back  from  the  dealers  entirely  —  first 
one  and  then  another. 

'  Three  came  in  today,"  Pasc  told  me  one  night. 
'  Three !  "  said  I,  and  jumped  on  a  train  to  New 
York  to  find  out  what  was  the  trouble. 

"  We  can't  sell  them,  that's  all,"  said  this  dealer. 
He  was  a  good  friend  of  mine. 


38     The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

"Why  not?"  I  asked  him. 

"  Well,  they're  new  for  one  thing." 

"  So's  everything  —  once,"  said  I.  "That's  no 
reason." 

'  Well,  if  you  want  the  truth  —  way  down  un- 
derneath," he  said,  "  I  can  give  it  to  you." 

"  Go  ahead,"  said  I. 

"  But  if  it  got  back  to  me,  you  understand  —  that 
you  got  it  here  —  it  would  kill  me,  as  far  as  the 
motor-cycle  business  is  concerned." 

"  I  understand,"  I  told  him.     "  What  is  it?  " 

"  It's  the  Rajah  people,"  he  said.  "  They're 
knocking  you  to  beat  the  band  —  that's  the  trouble. 
They're  got  everybody  scared.  They  say  your 
things  look  good,  but  they  won't  stand  up." 

"  Oh,  they  do,  do  they?  "  said  I. 

'  Yes,  all  those  changes  in  the  machine,  and  es- 
pecially those  new  mechanical  valves." 

"  So  they're  looking  for  a  fight,  are  they?  "  said 
I,  getting  hot.  "  Well,  they've  come  to  the  right 
place  for  it  —  if  that's  what  they  want  —  or  any- 
body else.  We  can  accommodate  them." 

"  Don't  start  eating  me,"  he  said.  "  That  won't 
get  you  anywhere." 

"  No,"  said  I.  "  It's  somebody  else  I'm  going 
to  eat  —  not  you.  And  I'm  much  obliged  to  you." 

And  I  started  back  home  again  —  figuring  it  out 
on  the  train. 

"  There's  just  one  thing  to  it,"  said  I  to  Pasc. 
"  We've  got  to  fight." 

"How?"  said  he. 

"  We're  going  down  there  to  Newark  on  Labor 


The  Hoodlum  39 


Day,"  I  said,  "  and  show  that  Rajah  crowd  up,  and 
that  piece  of  junk  they've  got!  " 

"  You  mean  to  say,"  he  said,  "  you're  going  into 
racing?  " 

"  That's  what  I  mean." 

"  Look  here,"  he  said.  "  How  are  you  going  to 
do  that?" 

"  I  can  do  it,"  said  I. 

'  That  costs  money,  going  into  that  racing 
game,"  said  Pasc. 

"  I  understand  that,"  I  told  him. 

"  Where'll  you  get  it?  Who's  going  to  back 
you?" 

"  We  won't  have  to  be  backed,"  I  said  — "  not  to 
any  great  extent,  and  I'll  show  you  why.  We've 
got  the  machine.  We  know  that,  don't  we?" 

"  Yeh,"  said  Pasc,  with  those  queer  blue  eyes  of 
his  on  me. 

"  We  can  cut  figure  eights  around  that  piece  of 
junk  of  theirs." 

"  Good  and  sure,"  said  Pasc. 

"  All  we  need  is  somebody  that's  got  nerve  — 
that  can  hang  on  to  her  and  let  her  go." 

"  When  you've  said  that,"  said  Pasc,  watching 
me,  "  you've  said  a  good  deal." 

"  I  know  that,"  I  answered  him,  "  I  know  we've 
got  to  take  a  man  who's  had  some  experience." 

"  You  bet  you  have." 

"But  if  he  had  that  —  and  the  Hoodlum  under 
him,  and  plenty  of  nerve  — " 

"Who  is  it  you've  got  in  mind?"  he  asked 
me. 


40     The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

"  You  know  that  little  red-headed  boy  of  Tom's," 
I  asked  him.  "  That  little  Chuck  Powers?  " 

"  Uh-huh." 

"  That's  the  one.  He's  ridden  quite  a  lot  —  in 
quite  a  number  of  these  races  around  the  country, 
and  he's  got  nerve  to  burn." 

11  Will  he  do  it?  "  said  Pasc.  "  Will  he  take  the 
chance?  " 

"  He'll  do  it,"  I  said,  "  I  know  the  boy.  He'll 
jump  at  it." 

'  Well,  do  we  want  him  to,  ourselves,"  said  Pasc, 
stopping  his  everlasting  chewing  of  his  slippery  elm. 
"  Do  we  want  to  take  the  chance  of  having 
him?" 

"Why  not?" 

;<  Well,  we  wouldn't  want  to  be  responsible  for 
killing  him." 

"Killing  him!"  said  I. 

'  You  never  saw  those  devils  —  those  real  pro- 
fessionals," said  Pasc,  "  riding  a  real  race,  for  blood, 
in  one  of  those  new  motordromes  —  those  Bowls." 

"They  do  have  some  bad  accidents  on  them;  I 
know  that,"  said  I. 

"  When  something  goes  —  or  they  shoot  off  the 
edge  of  the  Bowl  —  it's  liable  to  be  sure  death. 
They  kill  a  plenty  of  them  in  a  season  —  going  at 
those  speeds." 

"  Well,"  said  I  finally.  "  We've  all  got  to  take 
our  chances  in  life,  that's  certain.  If  I  get  him, 
will  you  do  it,  will  you  get  out  with  him,  and  help 
him,  and  train  him  up  on  the  fine  points  of  the  ma- 
chine?" 


The  Hoodlum  41 


"  I'll  try  it,"  said  he.  "  But  it  will  be  a  kind  of 
an  experiment,  from  his  standpoint  or  ours  — 
whether  we'll  get  anywheres  with  it." 

"  We've  got  to,  that's  all.  It's  that  or  nothing 
now  —  with  us.  If  we  don't,  we  bust  —  by  the 
first  of  October,  anyhow,  when  those  accounts  come 
due  and  that  note  at  Billings'  bank." 

"  But  look  here,"  said  Pasc.  "  How  are  you  go- 
ing to  do  it  anyway?  " 

"  He  won't  cost  anything,  nor  the  machines,  nor 
you  —  nothing  but  expenses." 

"What  are  you  going  to  do  about  the  boy?" 
Pasc  wanted  to  know. 

"  I'm  going  to  him  and  tell  him  we'll  put  our  ma- 
chine and  expenses  against  his  time;  and  if  he  makes 
good,  we'll  make  it  up  to  him,  and  more  later. 
He'll  jump  at  it !  I  know  it !  " 

"  Maybe,"  said  Pasc.  "  But  even  so,"  he  said, 
bringing  out  his  old  envelope  and  pencil  stub,  the 
way  he  did  when  he  was  figuring  or  working  on  his 
mechanical  ideas.  "  Even  at  that,  where'll  we  get 
the  money?  " 

"  We'll  get  it,"  I  said. 

"Do  you  realize  where  we  stand?"  he  said  to 
me.  "What  our  bank  balance  is?  I  don't  think 
you  do." 

"Why  not?"  said  I. 

"  While  you  were  gone,"  he  said,  "  this  thing 
came  up.  Myrtle  came  in  when  she  found  out  and 
told  me  about  it." 

"  What's  she  done  now?  "  said  I.  He  was  talk- 
ing about  that  little  bookkeeper  we  got  from  busi- 


42     The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

ness  school.  She  was  always  in  trouble  with  some- 
thing. 

"  She  sent  out  for  me  in  the  shop,"  said  Pasc, 
kind  of  slow,  "  when  she  found  out." 

"What  is  it?"  said  I. 

"  It  seems  she  made  a  little  mistake  in  her  addi- 
tion. We  haven't  got  so  much  in  the  bank  as  we 
thought  for." 

"  How  much  have  we  got?  "  said  I. 

And  he  told  me. 

I  jumped  up  on  my  feet,  and  cut  loose. 

"  Seven  thousand  devils,"  I  said.  "  How'd  she 
make  that  mistake?" 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Pasc.  "  Kind  of  worn 
down  and  tired,  I  guess." 

"  Did  you  fire  her?  "  I  said. 

"  No." 

"  Well,  I  will  tomorrow,"  I  said. 

"  No,  you  won't,"  he  said,  "  when  you  think  it 
over.  She's  nothing  but  a  kid  —  and  she's  tired 
out,  that's  all." 

"  That  won't  help  us  any,"  I  said,  "  when  she 
makes  some  great  big  blunder." 

"  We're  all  tired  some,"  he  said,  "  around  here, 
nowadays." 

"  She  never  will  catch  up,"  said  I.  "  She's  al- 
ways behindhand.  She  isn't  fit  for  it  anyhow.  She 
hasn't  got  blood  enough  in  her  body  to  keep  a 
mouse  alive." 

"Besides,"  said  Pasc,  "what  do  you  expect? 
What  else  can  you  get  anywhere  for  eight  dollars 
a  week?  " 


The  Hoodlum  43 


"Ah-hah,"  I  said.  "Well,  we'll  see."  He 
didn't  convince  me  then ;  I  meant  to  let  her  go  any- 
how. I  only  wish  I  had. 

"  But  the  question  is,"  said  Pasc,  "  how  are  we 
going  to  do  it,  anyhow?  How  are  we  going  to  get 
the  money  for  racing  —  or  even  for  our  rent  and 
our  payroll?  " 

"  We  might  sell  a  machine  or  two  more  than  we 
expected." 

"  I've  counted  on  more  now  than  we'll  sell,"  said 
Pasc,  looking  at  his  old  envelope. 

"  We  can  do  it,  somehow,"  said  I. 
'  You'll  have  to  have  several  hundred  dollars  any- 
how." 

"  We  can  do  it." 

"How?" 

"  I  don't  know  how,  but  we'll  do  it,"  I  said.  "  I 
know  that.  Because  we've  got  to.  We're  like  that 
bulldog  that  climbed  the  tree.  And  we'll  sit  right 
down  here  now,  and  figure  it  out." 

'  Jerusalem,"  said  Pasc,  looking  up  at  the  clock. 
"  See  what  time  it  is." 

It  was  a  quarter  past  seven. 

"  Zetta'll  snatch  me  baldheaded,"  he  said,  jump- 
ing up. 

I  knew  there  was  no  use  of  talking  now;  that  was 
one  thing  you  never  could  move  him  on  —  anything 
where  his  wife  was  concerned.  Besides,  I  could  see 
myself  there  was  no  use  of  going  ahead  then  before 
supper. 

"  I  tell  you  what  you  do,"  said  I.  '  You  come 
right  over  to  the  house  after  you've  eaten." 


44     The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

"Shall  I  bring  Zetta  with  me?"  asked  Pasc. 
"  She  gets  almighty  lonesome  sitting  there  alone  in 
that  flat." 

"  Sure,"  I  told  him.  "  Bring  her  along.  The 
women  can  amuse  themselves  while  we  talk  busi- 
ness." 

And  then  he  rushed  out. 

Old  Tom  Powers  got  in  before  I  got  out  myself, 
and  I  asked  him  about  his  boy. 

"  He  won't  get  much  out  of  it  first,"  I  said. 
"  But  if  he  wins  out,  he  won't  lose  anything  by  it  in 
the  long  run.  You  know  me  well  enough  to  know 
that  anyway,  Tom,"  said  I. 

"  He'll  do  it,  I  guess,"  said  old  Tom,  talking  a 
little  slow.  "  He's  crazy  about  the  riding,  and  he 
knows  every  nut  and  bolt  in  that  machine  of  yours. 
He'd  ought  to,"  he  said.  "  He  was  brought  up 
inside  a  machine  shop.  His  mother  weaned  him  on 
machine  oil." 

And  he  showed  his  gums  in  that  old  lean  grave- 
yard grin  of  his. 

"You  haven't  got  any  objections,  have  you?"  I 
asked  the  old  man  —  in  spite  of  myself,  seeing  that 
old  right-hand  stump  of  his.  The  boy  was  the  only 
child  they  had. 

"  His  mother  won't  like  it  very  much,  I  suppose," 
he  said.  "  He  ain't  only  eighteen,  and  he's  the  only 
boy  she's  got.  She  thinks  it's  worse  than  it  is,  too." 

"  Yes,  I  know." 

"  But  he's  got  to  take  his  chance,"  he  said, 
"  along  with  the  rest  of  us.  Women  always  think 
the  worst  of  everything. 


The  Hoodlum  45 


"  Go  on  now,"  he  said,  stopping  talking  about  it, 
kind  of  suddenly.  "  Go  on.  I'll  lock  up  after  you. 
Don't  you  ever  go  home  to  your  wife  in  season?  " 

So  I  left  him  as  usual,  poking  around  in  the  dark, 
closing  up  the  place  after  me. 


CHAPTER  V 
ZETTA'S  RING 

She  was  a  kind  of  a  dark-looking  woman  —  Pasc's 
wife  —  a  fine,  full  figure  of  a  young  woman,  with 
black  hair  and  red  lips.  I  had  only  seen  her  once 
or  twice,  when  she'd  come  into  the  office.  She 
hadn't  come  to  town  until  just  lately;  and  when  she 
did,  they  didn't  live  near  us;  they'd  gone  way  over 
to  the  other  end  of  town,  where  they  were  putting 
up  those  new  eighteen  dollar  a  month  flats. 

"  Hello,"  she  said,  coming  into  the  door. 
"  Hello,  Mr.  Morgan.  Howdy  do,  again.  And 
this  is  Mrs.  Morgan,  isn't  it?  Howdy." 

"  I'm  ashamed  of  myself,"  said  Polly,  taking  off 
her  wrap  for  her,  "  for  not  coming  over  and  seeing 
you." 

"  Oh,  don't  mention  it,"  she  said.  "  With  your 
kids  and  doing  your  own  work  at  the  same  time,  I 
know  just  how  it  must  be.  If  I  was  you  I'd  be 
dead." 

And  she  went  over  and  took  a  chair  and  started 
talking  along  to  Polly. 

"  We'll  let  the  men  alone,"  she  said,  "  to  take 
care  of  their  own  troubles." 

She  was  smart  as  a  steel  trap,  you  could  see  that; 
just  brimful  of  life. 

"  Our  sitting  room's  pretty  small,"  said  Polly. 


Zetta's  Ring  47 

"  I'd  take  you  upstairs,  only  the  children  are  asleep 
there." 

"  Oh,  this  is  all  right,"  said  Pasc's  wife.  "  We 
can  sit  over  here  and  talk,  and  not  disturb  them  a 
particle. 

"  You  go  ahead  now,  boys,"  she  said  to  us. 
"  You  talk  your  business,  and  we'll  sit  over  here  and 
get  acquainted." 

You  couldn't  help  liking  her;  she  was  so  kind  of 
free  and  easy,  and  friendly.  She  started  right 
along  talking  to  my  wife. 

"  It  is  kind  of  lonely,"  she  said,  "  at  first  —  not 
knowing  anybody  in  town.  And  more  so  with  us.  I 
always  did  like  to  go,  I'm  that  kind;  and  Pasc  there 
is  just  the  opposite.  That's  the  trouble  with  us." 

"  I  guess  you  don't  fight  much,"  said  Polly. 

"  No,  we  don't  fight,"  she  answered  her,  looking 
at  Pasc,  and  smiling.  They  were  a  queer  couple  — 
entirely  different  from  one  another.  But  you  could 
see  they  thought  the  world  of  each  other,  especially 
Pasc.  Every  time  she  looked  at  him,  his  lean  old 
leathery  face  lighted  up  like  a  jack  lantern. 

I  was  out  getting  a  cigar  for  Pasc,  from  the  side- 
board in  the  dining  room. 

"  I  always  want  to  go  too  much,"  I  heard  her 
going  on  to  my  wife.  "  I  was  brought  up  that  way. 
An  only  kid,  kind  of  spoiled.  But  he  wants  to  come 
home  and  sit  there  nights,  thinking  out  something 
in  his  head.  For  the  last  two  years  it's  been  this 
carburetor.  He's  got  carburetor  on  the  brain.  It 
was  pretty  fierce  sometimes,  especially  for  a  bride. 
I  used  to  get  mad  and  call  him  my  human  carbu- 


48     The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

retor,  sometimes,  didn't  I,  Pasc?  "  she  called  over  to 
him. 

And  he  grinned  that  sudden  dry  grin  of  his,  like 
those  still  fellows  do  —  their  teeth  opening  up  sud- 
denly out  of  their  stiff  faces. 

"  Just  to  show  him  I'm  living,"  she  said,  "  I  have 
to  get  up,  and  kick  over  the  traces  now  and  then. 
But  I  know;  I'm  not  a  fool  about  it.  I  know  I  can't 
quarrel  with  my  bread  and  butter.  And  especially 
now  when  we're  all  going  to  make  so  much  money 
on  the  Hoodlum. 

"  Now,  you  go  ahead,  boys,"  she  called  over  to 
us,  across  the  room.  "  Stop  your  listening  and  get 
down  to  business." 

"  All  right,  Sister,"  said  I,  and  we  went  ahead. 
I  felt  as  if  I'd  always  known  her,  all  my  life. 

"  Now  here,"  I  said  to  Pasc.  "  Let's  get  right 
down,  and  find  out  just  what  we  can  do.  Let's  fig- 
ure out  just  what  we  can  hope  to  lay  our  hands  on." 

And  Pasc  brought  out  his  old  pencil  stub,  and  an- 
other old  envelope  —  half  covered  up  with  draw- 
ings and  figures. 

"  Now  in  the  first  place,"  I  said,  "  here's  one 
place  we  can  cut  down  some.  We  can  get  rid  of 
this  one  man." 

"  I  hate  to  do  that,'  said  Pasc.  "  He's  been  a 
pretty  good  man  for  us." 

"  I  know  that,"  I  said.  "  But  we've  got  to  do  it. 
We  can  make  it  up  to  him  sometime  later." 

"  But  you  can't  cut  out  much,  that's  certain." 

"  Not  and  run,"  said  I.  "  Unless  you  and  I  stay 
there  twenty-four  hours  a  day." 


Zetta's  Ring  49 

"  You'd  better  take  your  beds  down  and  sleep 
there,"  Polly  called  across  the  room. 

You  could  see  they  were  both  listening  to  us  while 
they  talked.  They  had  to  more  or  less;  the  room 
was  so  small. 

"  Never  mind,"  I  called  back  to  her,  "  you  keep 
out  of  this,  now!  " 

We  couldn't  cut  out  much  that  we  hadn't  already 
—  try  all  we  could.  I  could  hear  the  women  going 
on  with  their  talking,  as  we  sat  thinking  about  it. 

They  were  talking  about  housekeeping,  and  the 
trouble  of  getting  along  on  what  they  had.  And 
what  they'd  do  if  they  had  money. 

"  What  I  object  to  is  the  smallness  of  it,"  I  heard 
Zetta  —  Pasc's  wife  —  say,  "  being  cooped  up  so 
when  you're  poor." 

"  Now,  here,"  I  said  to  Pasc,  "  let's  get  back  to 
the  main  thing.  Let's  see  what  we  can  hope  to  lay 
our  hands  on.  There's  one  or  two  other  men,"  I 
said,  "  I  believe  I  might  sell  to,  if  I  shaved  the  price 
a  little." 

"  Yes,  I  know,"  said  Pasc,  wetting  his  little  pen- 
cil with  his  tongue.  "  But  even  so,  you've  got  to 
have  several  hundred  dollars  yet  —  to  pull  out  any- 
way. Isn't  that  so?  " 

"  Yes,  that's  right,"  I  had  to  admit. 

"  I'm  afraid  we're  kind  of  up  against  it,"  he  said. 

"  Not  on  your  life,"  I  said,  and  I  sat  there  at  one 
side  of  the  center  table,  figuring  on  it. 

I  could  hear  the  women.  They  were  talking 
about  money  still,  what  they'd  do  if  they  had  it  — 
like  a  couple  of  kids.  I  had  to  grin. 


50     The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

"  If  you  had  a  lot  of  money  what  would  you  do 
with  it?"  Zetta  was  asking. 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Polly. 

"  I  do.  I'd  live,"  said  the  other  one.  "  And 
we'll  have  it  too  —  out  of  this  last  thing  —  I  know 
it.  And  when  it  comes  I'm  going  to  have  one 
grand  large  time." 

I  had  to  grin  to  myself.  We  were  sitting,  figur- 
ing our  heads  off  to  see  where  we  were  coming 
out,  and  she  was  spending  our  money  for  us  already. 

The  worst  of  it  was  we  didn't  get  anywhere; 
there  wasn't  any  loophole  apparently. 

"  We  were  funny  folks  that  way  at  my  home," 
I  heard  Pasc's  wife  going  on,  "  about  money. 
Sometimes  we  had  a  lot;  and  sometimes  we  didn't. 
My  father  was  in  the  livery  stable  business ;  and  he 
used  to  go  around  to  these  big  races,  and  bet  quite  a 
little,  and  he  was  pretty  smart  at  it,  too;  but  some- 
times he'd  get  caught! 

"  But  when  we  had  it,  we  had  it.  We  didn't 
keep  it  long.  I  was  the  only  child;  and  he  used  to 
give  me  everything  there  was,  when  he  had  the 
money.  I  used  to  go  everywhere;  and  do  every- 
thing, about,  that  he  did.  We  used  to  have  the  fin- 
est horses  in  town;  and  he  let  me  drive  them  all  the 
time  —  when  I  wasn't  more  than  ten  years  old. 
And  I  could  drive  some.  I'd  like  to  see  a  horse 
that  would  go  too  fast  for  me  —  or  anything  else !  " 
she  said.  '  That's  why  I've  been  so  much  excited 
over  this  Hoodlum.  I'd  like  nothing  better,"  she 
said,  "  than  to  dress  up  like  a  man,  and  take  one  of 
those  things  and  ride  and  ride  and  ride !  " 


Zettcis  Ring  51 

She'd  got  kind  of  excited  talking  about  it;  and  the 
color  had  come  up  under  her  dark  cheeks  —  shining 
through  the  skin.  She  certainly  was  a  stunning 
looking  woman  those  days. 

"  I'm  like  my  father,  i  guess,  more  ways  than 
one,"  she  said.  '  We  both  had  to  be  going  fast, 
all  the  time.  He  gave  me  this,"  she  said,  breaking 
off,  and  taking  a  big  diamond  ring  off  her  finger. 
I  hadn't  seen  it  before.  "  On  my  eighteenth  birth- 
day. Before  he  died.  Don't  you  love  them? 
I  do.  I  think  they're  wonderful.  I'm  going  to 
have  a  bushel  of  them,  when  this  Hoodlum  makes 
good  —  when  we  get  all  this  money  we're  going 
to." 

"  I  do,"  said  Polly.  "  I  like  them  pretty  well. 
Only  I  never  had  one  yet  —  not  a  real  one." 

"  I  always  thought  the  world  of  this  one.  Isn't 
it  a  dandy?  "  she  said,  turning  it  so  the  light  struck 
it. 

"  Isn't  it  a  lovely  one?  "  said  Polly. 

I  looked  over  and  saw  it.  It  was  a  great  big 
fine  stone.  It  made  me  kind  of  sore.  She  sitting 
there  showing  the  light  on  that  diamond,  and  we 
sitting  over  across  the  room  —  figuring,  figuring. 
Figuring  and  not  getting  anywhere;  with  all  our  as- 
sets tied  up  in  those  thirty  or  thirty-five  motor  cy- 
cles. 

"  I  give  it  up,"  said  Pasc  finally,  looking  up  from 
his  old  envelope. 

"  Well,  I  don't,"  said  I,  and  kept  along. 

I  saw  Polly  flush  when  he  said  it,  and  knew  she 
was  listening  in  all  the  time. 


52     The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

"  I  never  was  much  good  at  figures,"  said  Pasc, 
stopping  and  waiting  for  me. 

But  I  didn't  get  anywhere  either. 

"  You're  up  against  it,  too,  ain't  you,"  he  said  to 
me  finally. 

"  Well,  I  don't  see  just  now  where  the  money's 
coming  from." 

"  Well,  then,"  said  Pasc.  "  Will  you  want  to  go 
ahead  with  it?  " 

"  I  sure  will,"  said  I. 

"  You  don't  want  to  start  and  spend  our  money 
for  something  you  can't  finish,  do  you?  " 

"  No.  But  you  don't  want  to  bust  either,  do 
you?  "  I  said  to  him. 

I  thought  I  was  talking  pretty  low  still,  but  I 
guess  I  wasn't. 

"  No,"  he  said. 

"  Well,  we  will!  "  I  said.  "  Unless  we  find  the 
money  to  put  this  thing  through." 

He  didn't  say  anything. 

"We'll  bust,  that's  the  English  of  it,"  I  went 
along. 

"  Excuse  me,"  I  heard  Pasc's  wife  saying  to  mine. 
I  had  noticed  their  talk  had  slackened  up  the  past 
minute  or  two.  "  Excuse  me,  Mrs.  Morgan,"  she 
said,  "  but  I've  got  to  get  into  this  thing  the  men 
are  talking  about." 

When  I  looked  at  her,  I  saw  her  face  was  red  as 
fire. 

"  What  do  you  mean?  "  she  said  to  me.  "  Did 
you  say  you'd  bust,  if  you  didn't  have  more  money 
to  run  off  that  race  with?  " 


Zetta's  Ring  53 

"  Well,  that's  about  the  size  of  it." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say,"  she  said,  turning  to  Pasc, 
"  things  have  got  as  bad  as  that,  and  you  never  told 
me?" 

And  those  black  eyes  looked  clear  through  him. 
"  Why  didn't  you?  "  she  wanted  to  know.  "  Why 
not?" 

"  I  didn't  want  to  bother  you,"  Pasc  told 
her. 

"  Bother  me,"  she  said,  in  a  sharp  voice,  "  I  wish 
you'd  bother  me  more  sometimes!  " 

And  we  all  sat  there  for  a  few  minutes  —  feeling 
awkward. 

"  You  must  have  thought  I  was  a  nice  one,"  she 
said  to  me;  "  fooling  around,  and  talking  about 
money,  and  showing  off  my  diamond." 

"  I  didn't  think  anything  about  it." 

"  Look  here,"  she  said  to  me,  "  would  three  hun- 
dred dollars  be  any  use?  " 

"  It  might  be,"  I  said.     "  A  good  deal." 

"  Here,"  she  said,  "  take  it." 

And  in  a  quarter  of  a  second,  she  had  that  ring 
off  her  finger. 

"Take  it,"  I  said,  flabbergasted.     "What?" 

"  This  ring,"  she  told  me.  "It's  worth  three 
hundred  dollars." 

"  Not  on  your  life,"  said  I. 

"Your  father's  ring!  "  said  Polly. 

"  Yes,  you  will!  "  said  Pasc's  wife. 

"  Not  and  take  any  chance  like  this  with  it,"  I 
told  her. 

"  Didn't  you  tell  me,"   she  asked,   "  that  three 


54     The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

hundred  dollars  might  pull  you  through?  Save 
you?" 

"  It  might.     Yes." 

"  And  haven't  you  put  in  everything  you  own  — 
a  mortgage  on  your  house,  and  everything?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  I. 

'Then  what  do  you  take  me  for?  No,  sir," 
she  said  to  Polly,  who  started  to  reason  with  her 
about  this  ring  from  her  dead  father.  "  No,"  she 
said,  standing  very  straight  and  still.  "  We're 
partners  in  this  thing,  aren't  we?  Then  you've  got 
to  take  it. 

"What  do  you  think  I  am  —  you  putting  up 
your  house  and  all  that,  and  I  sitting  here  with  this 
thing?  You  take  it  now,  before  I  get  mad.  If 
you  don't,  Pasc  will.  Isn't  that  right,  Pasc?" 

"  Darned  sure,"  said  Pasc. 

"  No,  sir,"  said  I  again.     "  I  refuse  to  take  it." 

"  All  right,"  she  said,  quicker  than  a  flash  —  and 
she  handed  the  ring  over  to  Pasc.  "  I  tell  you 
what  I'm  going  to  do  then." 

"  What?  "  said  Pasc,  grinning  at  her  the  way  you 
do  at  a  nice  lively  child. 

"  Will  three  hundred  dollars  pay  for  the  expenses 
of  this  race  —  everything?  " 

"  It  ought  to,"  said  Pasc. 

"  Then  it'll  be  my  race,"  she  said.  "  I'll  pay 
for  it.  You  go  ahead,  boys,  you  run  your  race; 
and  I'll  pay  for  it.  And  you'll  see  it's  done,"  she 
said  to  Pasc. 

"  You  can  count  on  that,"  said  Pasc. 

"  But  you  don't  take  any  risks  of  losing  it,"  said 


Zettas  Ring  55 

I.  '  You  could  pawn  it,  if  you  like,  but  you've  got 
to  fix  it  so  we're  both  responsible  for  getting  it  back 
to  you." 

'  You've  got  to  have  it,  anyhow,"  she  said, 
"  whether  you  lose  it  or  not." 

So  we  compromised,  finally.  Pasc  took  it  and 
put  it  in  his  pocket  before  she  would  be  satisfied. 

'  You  needn't  think,"  she  said  to  me,  "  that  you 
men  are  the  only  ones  that  ever  take  a  chance  in 
your  life." 

She  looked  great  —  flushed  up  that  way,  but  her 
upper  lip  sat  down  on  the  lower  one,  straight  as  a 
die. 

"  There's  a  woman,"  I  said  to  myself  then, 
"  that'll  go  a  long  ways  for  what  she's  after." 

She  started  smiling  then,  showing  her  big  white 
teeth  —  when  she  had  her  own  way. 

"  You'll  pay  me  for  this,"  she  said, — "  don't  you 
worry  —  when  we  win  out;  when  the  Hoodlum  gets 
going  right.  Because  we're  going  to  win  —  don't 
you  forget  that:  this  race,  and  everything  we're 
after." 

"  That's  the  way  to  talk,"  I  told  her.  "  I  al- 
ways did  like  a  woman  with  some  spunk  and  go  to 
her." 

"  Well,  we've  both  got  'em,  I  guess,"  said  Pasc, 
looking  at  our  wives. 

"  I  God,  yes,"  I  said.  "  That's  one  satisfaction. 
You  bet  we're  going  to  win,"  I  said  to  her. 

41  And  right  after  that  I'm  going  to  collect  on 
you  both,'  she  said,  and  started  to  laugh  again. 

"  You  can  go  the  limit  with  me,"  I  told  her. 


56     The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

"  I  wish  half  the  time,"  she  said,  "  I  was  a  man, 
anyhow." 

"  Pasc  don't,"  said  I,  "  and  I  don't  blame  him." 

"  I  do,  just  the  same,"  she  said.  "  You  can  go 
somewhere  and  do  something.  You  aren't  cooped 
up  all  your  life,  like  a  woman  —  never  able  to  get 
out,  and  get  what  you  want  most." 

"  What's  that,"  I  said,  jollying  her. 

"  Just  what  you  do." 

"What?" 

"  Money,"  she  said.  "  Without  it,  where  are 
you?  With  it  you  can  cut  loose  and  be  free. 
Heavens,"  she  said,  and  threw  up  her  arms  above 
her  head.  "  You  can  live. 

'  You  watch  me,"  she  went  on,  "  when  we  get 
the  money.  I'll  have  diamonds  galore, —  and  au- 
tomobiles, and  some  real  clothes,  once.  I'll  go  to 
New  York,  and  get  some  clothes  that'll  make  these 
country  frumps  around  here  sit  up  and  take  notice." 

"  You  bet  you  will,  and  I'll  see  you  get  them,  if 
he  won't  give  them  to  you,"  I  said  to  her,  jollying 
her  again.  She  was  considerably  younger  than  any 
of  the  rest  of  us. 

"  And  now  we're  going,"  she  said,  getting  up. 

And  then  they  went  on  home.  I  noticed  Polly 
didn't  have  much  to  say,  when  they'd  gone. 

"  She's  a  stunner,  isn't  she,"  said  I.  "  I  don't 
know  when  I've  seen  a  handsomer  woman." 

"  Yes,"  said  Polly,  without  any  spirit  in  it. 

"  Like  one  of  these  red  birds  you  see  sometimes 
on  the  top  of  a  tree,  in  the  country.  You  can't 
keep  your  eyes  off  her.  Don't  you  think  so?  " 


Zetta's  Ring  57 

"  She  is  striking  looking,"  said  Polly.  "  But 
she  uses  kind  of  funny  grammar;  and  she  dresses 
pretty  kind  of  conspicuous." 

"  She  can  stand  it,"  I  said. 

"  Yes,  she  can  —  in  a  way." 

"What's  the  matter  with  her?"  I  said.  Polly 
was  always  pretty  nice  about  other  women. 
"Don't  you  like  her?" 

'  Yes,"  said  Polly,  "  she's  a  kind  of  a  lawless 
thing.  But  I  like  her  —  very  much." 

"Then  what  is  it?"  I  said,  "that  you've  got 
against  her?  " 

"  Nothing." 

"  What  is  it,"  I  said,  keeping  after  her.  "  Are 
you  jealous  of  her?  It's  something;  I  know 
that!" 

"  Nothing  in  the  world,"  she  said,  "  not  against 
her." 

"Against  who,  then?"  said  I,  still  trying  to 
worm  it  out  of  her. 

"  Against  myself,"  she  said  finally. 

"Against  yourself?" 

"Oh,  why  didn't  /  think  of  that!"  said  Polly, 
letting  it  loose;  flushing  up  to  the  roots  of  her  hair. 

"  Think  of  what,"  I  said,  wondering. 

"  What  she  did  —  that  diamond  ring." 

"  Diamond  ring,"  I  said.  "  You  haven't  got 
any  diamond  ring." 

"  But  I've  got  other  things,"  she  said.  "  All 
that  old  jewelry  of  mother's.  That  is  quite  valu- 
able." 

"  What  do  you  want  to  do,"  I  said,  "  give  us 


58     The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

that!  "  I  had  to  laugh  to  her,  standing  there  all 
flushed  up. 

"  I  guess  you've  done  about  enough,  girl,"  I  said, 
kissing  her.  "  You've  put  up  about  all  you  own. 
I  guess  we've  all  got  about  enough  up  to  put  on  one 
bicycle  race.  You  can  keep  your  mother's  jew- 
elry. 

"  But  let  me  tell  you  something,"  I  said,  think- 
ing; "  if  this  thing  works  out  you'll  see  some  race. 
If  that  boy  of  Tom's  can  stick  on  the  old  Hoodlum, 
we'll  show  up  that  Rajah  thing.  We'll  show  them 
what  a  real  motor  cycle  is." 

"  I  —  I  bet  we  will,"  said  Polly. 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE    BOWL 

"  Now  here,"  said  I  to  Pasc  down  at  the  shop 
the  next  day,  standing  there  beside  one  of  those  old 
original  first  model  Hoodlums,  "  what  could  she  do, 
if  she  had  to?  " 

"  On  the  straightaway?  " 

"  Yeah." 

'  Two  miles  a  minute." 

"  You  say  so,"  said  I.  "  But  you  and  I'll  never 
live  to  see  any  two  miles  a  minute  on  wheels." 

"  She  could,"  said  Pasc  again,  "  if  there  was 
anybody  living  dared  put  her  to  it." 

"And  what  about  that  other  thing  —  the 
Rajah?" 

"  A  mile  in  fifty  seconds.  Not  more.  Not  for 
any  length  of  time.  It  would  bang  her  up  too 
much.  This  old  girl,"  said  he,  "  of  ours  has  got 
easy  fifteen  seconds  over  that  Rajah  machine  in  the 
mile." 

"  Do  you  believe  it?  "  said  I. 

"  I  know  it,"  said  Pasc.  "  Just  the  same  as  I 
know  she  won't  make  anywhere  near  her  time  at 
Newark.  In  one  of  those  condemned  Bowls  — 
against  that  Shang,  the  Murderer  —  that  Murphy 
—  and  that  other  Rajah  bunch." 

"  I  suppose  they  are  the  devil,"  said  I. 


60     The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

"  You'd  think  so,"  said  Pasc. 

"  Well,  it's  up  to  you.  That's  your  job,"  said  I. 
"  When  are  you  going  to  take  young  Chuck  Powers, 
and  start  him  getting  used  to  it  down  there?  " 

"  I  think  I'll  start  tomorrow,"  said  Pasc.  "  I've 
arranged  for  getting  the  money  on  Zetta's  ring." 

I  had  letters  from  him,  then,  telling  me  how  they 
were  getting  on;  and  what  their  plans  were. 

"  We've  got  it  all  figured  out,"  Pasc  wrote  me. 
"  We're  going  to  run  a  new  style  race.  We're  out 
to  show  that  Rajah  machine  up.  And  so  as  to  do 
that  good,  we're  going  to  start  dragging  them  out 
from  the  first;  till  we  pull  the  insides  right  out  of 
her.  You'll  see  some  records  going;  and  now  and 
then  a  chunk  of  hot  metal  out  of  that  Rajah  engine, 
following  us  around  —  unless  they  manage  to  foul 
us  out  of  it." 

I  heard  from  them,  rather  encouraged,  several 
times.  But  I  didn't  go  down  there  myself  till  the 
day  before  the  race  —  the  day  before  Labor  Day. 
I  couldn't  afford  it  —  and  I  was  too  busy. 

"Well,  how's  it  coming?"  I  said  to  Chuck  — 
meeting  him  first,  and  shaking  hands  outside  the 
dressing  room. 

"  Oh,  all  right,  I  guess,"  he  said,  looking  up  a 
second,  and  down  again  —  the  way  that  kind  does; 
not  very  talkative.  He  had  a  kind  of  bold,  obsti- 
nate pair  of  eyes,  when  he  did  look  at  you  —  blue, 
with  the  whites  showing  underneath. 

;<  Won  your  heat,  I  hear,"  said  I. 

"  Uh-huh." 

"  That's  good." 


The  Bowl  61 

"  You'll  find  Mr.  Thomas  inside,"  he  said,  going 
along. 

"  What's  he  done,  anyhow,  in  practice?  "  I  asked 
Pasc,  when  he  told  me  about  the  preliminaries. 

"  Forty-three  seconds  for  the  mile." 

"Yes,  he  has!"  said  I. 

"  He  can  do  better,"  said  Pasc,  "  if  he's  left 
alone.  The  trouble  is  the  Rajah  people  know  it 
just  as  well  as  we  do  now.  They  know  they've  got 
to  do  something  extra.  That  Shang  Murphy's 
after  him,  already.  He  started  out  to  pick  a  fight 
with  him  yesterday,  when  he  was  just  standing 
there." 

"He  did,  huh?"  said  I. 

"  That's  their  old  game.  Scare  the  hearts  out 
of  the  new  ones  before  they  even  get  in." 

"  Did  it  work,"  I  asked  him,  "  with  our  kid?  " 

"Work!  "  said  Pasc,  smiling  that  dry  old  leath- 
ery smile.  "  You  watch  them." 

And  then  we  walked  around  and  he  showed  me 
this  Bowl,  where  they  rode.  It  was  a  queer  look- 
ing thing,  'round  and  'round  —  six  laps  to  the  mile, 
as  I  remember  it.  A  board  track,  banked  straight 
up,  until  it  looked  just  like  the  inside  of  a  bowl. 
The  riders  started  and  ran  'round  and  'round  in- 
side them,  as  the  fellow  said,  like  a  scared  mouse  in 
a  soup  tureen  —  hanging  up  on  the  sides  against 
the  force  of  gravity. 

"  The  only  trouble  is,"  said  Pasc,  "  they  ain't 
banked  enough." 

"Not  banked  enough!  "  I  said. 

"  Not  yet.     You've  got  to  have  them  so  they 


62     The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

hang  right  out  in  the  air,  when  they're  riding;  as  it 
is  now  they  keep  sliding  off  over  the  edge,  and  kill- 
ing themselves. 

"  Especially  passing  somebody  else,"  said  Pasc, 
"  at  these  speeds  now.  Just  a  twitch  of  the  wrist, 
and  off  you  go.  The  condemned  things  are  only 
thirty-five  or  forty  feet  wide.  And  you  can  imagine 
how  long  it  takes  to  shoot  that." 

"  They  have  killed  quite  a  few  lately,  haven't 
they?  "  said  I. 

;'  They're  nothing  more'n  death  traps,"  said  Pasc, 
"  the  whole  of  them.  Some  day  they'll  have  to  do 
away  with  them  entirely."  And  they  did,  of  course, 
after  that.  "  It  takes  a  man  with  a  case-hardened 
nerve,"  he  said,  "  to  get  into  it  now." 

"  Well,"  I  said  to  him,  "  how  is  it?  How'll  this 
kid  of  ours  stand  it?  " 

"  All  right,"  said  Pasc. 

"  He  must  be  pretty  small,  next  to  the  rest  of 
them." 

"That's  all  right,"  he  came  back.  "It  ain't 
size  that  counts  in  this,  and  I  don't  except  that 
great  foul-mouthed  murdering  freak  —  that  Shang 
Murphy. 

'  We're  going  right  after  them,"  said  Pasc, 
"  we're  going  to  draw  them  out  from  the  start, 
just  the  same  as  I  wrote  you." 

"  Go  ahead,"  said  I.  "  I'm  ready  for  you. 
The  minute  we  win,  the  advertising's  all  ready  to 
smear  up  on  the  walls  where  the  crowd  goes  out. 
And  if  we  don't  win,"  said  I,  trying  to  be  funnier 
than  I  felt,  "  I  guess  I've  got  the  car-fare  home. 


The  Bowl  63 

But  it'll  have  to  come  out  of  the  creditors,  at  that." 
I  sat  there  waiting  in  the  grand  stand  that  next 
afternoon,  and  watched  the  crowd,  and  the  riders 
starting  to  come  over  into  that  Bowl  underneath. 
I  was  away  over  at  one  end  of  the  grand  stand,  the 
only  seat  I  could  get  in  the  front  row.  Pasc  was 
down  with  Chuck  Powers  in  that  center  of  the  track 

—  the  pit,  they  called  it;  so  I  sat  there  alone,  and 
shoved  my  jack-knife  blade  into  the  seat  as  far  as  I 
could  shove,  and  drew  it  out,  and  shoved  it  in  again 

—  wondering  just  what  was  going  to  happen  to  us 
that  next  hour  and  a  half  in  that  loo-mile  race.     If 
we  didn't  get  it,  of  course  we  were  through. 

There  was  a  man  next  to  me  —  a  small,  black- 
looking  young  fellow  —  with  a  big  checked  cap,  and 
bright  yellow  shoes,  and  a  bright  blue  necktie.  He 
looked  like  he  might  be  one  of  these  young  Italians, 
or  a  French  Canadian.  His  big  cap  was  down  over 
his  eyes,  and  he  sat  there  chewing  gum. 

"Queer  looking  things,  ain't  they?"  I  said  to 
him,  thinking  it  would  help  pass  the  time  to  talk  to 
somebody.  "  These  Bowls." 

"  Sure,"  he  said,  looking  straight  out  ahead. 

"  Treacherous  damned  things,  too  —  ain't 
they?  "  I  went  along.  u  I  see  where  they  killed  an- 
other man  over  in  Revere  last  week  —  that  Joe 
Lavoisier." 

I  noticed  him  then  give  this  little  kind  of  a  twitch. 

u  You  see  about  that?  "  I  asked  him. 

"  Yeah,  I  saw  it,"  he  said,  and  pulled  his  cap 
down  more  over  his  eyes. 

14  Dangerous  business,"  said  I, 


64     The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

"  They  call  it  racing,"  he  answered  after  a  min- 
ute. "Its  right  name  is  murder  —  the  way  they 
run  it  now." 

"  Shooting  off  over  the  edge?  " 

"  Or  being  pushed." 

"Crowded  off?"  said  I. 

"  You've  said  it,"  said  this  fellow  next  to  me. 

"  That  would  be  murder!  " 

"  What  was  I  telling  you?  "  he  said  to  me,  and 
shut  up.  And  we  both  sat  there,  staring  at  the 
track.  Some  more  of  the  riders  were  coming  on. 
He  stopped  chewing  his  gum,  and  sat  there  staring 
down.  He  seemed  as  if  he  was  looking  for  some- 
body. 

I  heard  him  cursing  then,  after  a  minute  or  two, 
under  his  breath.  I  turned  around,  and  looked  at 
him,  and  he  saw  me  doing  it. 

'  You  were  speaking  about  that  Joe  Lavoisier," 
he  said,  "  getting  his  last  week." 

"  Uh-huh." 

"  Well,  that's  the  fellow  that  gave  it  to  him,"  he 
said,  nodding  his  big  cap. 

"  Who?  "  said  I,  "  that  big  black-looking  one?  " 

I  had  been  watching  him  before,  suspecting  al- 
ready who  it  was. 

He  nodded  his  head  again. 

"Who  is  it?"  I  asked  him. 
'  That's  Shang  Murphy." 

"  So  that's  the  man." 

'  That's  the  guy.  That's  the  main  murderer," 
he  said.  "That's  the  fellow  that  gave  it  to 
Joe." 


The  Bowl  65 

"  Gripes,"  I  said,  "  he  don't  hardly  look  human, 
does  he?" 

He  didn't  —  in  that  leather  suit;  gawking 
around.  He  looked  about  eight  feet  tall,  and  about 
as  big  around  as  a  napkin  ring. 

"  He  ain't,"  said  the  fellow  next  to  me.  "  He's 
a  damned  murdering  rattlesnake." 

I  sat  there  watching  him,  thinking  about  all  I 
had  heard  about  him.  I  noticed,  after  a  while,  how 
this  man  beside  me  kept  cursing  him  out.  I  didn't 
pay  so  much  attention  at  first.  I  was  watching 
Chuck  Powers  down  there,  getting  ready  with  his 
machine,  looking  like  a  two-year-old  kid  next  to 
that  big  freak. 

But  then  I  heard  this  fellow  next  to  me  —  curs- 
ing and  swearing  as  if  he  was  talking  to  somebody 
—  in  a  kind  of  a  hoarse  low  voice.  And  I  followed 
his  eyes,  and  he  was  talking  to  that  great  freak, 
that  Murphy,  as  if  he  was  alone  in  a  room  with 
him. 

"  You  think  you're  the  only  one,"  he  was  saying 
under  his  breath,  "  that  can  pull  that  murder  stuff. 
But  some  one's  coming  along,  some  day,  and  hand 
you  yours.  And  when  they  do,  all  I  ask  is  I'll  be 

there  to  see  it  —  you "  And  he  cursed  him,  in 

that  hoarse  low  voice  of  his  till  your  hair  rose  up  on 
the  nape  of  your  neck  like  a  dog's,  listening  to  him. 

Finally  I  caught  his  eye;  he  saw  I  was  listening. 

"  Say,  what  have  you  got  against  him,  so  much?  " 
I  said  to  him. 

"  Oh,  nothing  much,"  he  said,  giving  me  a  stare. 
"  Only  I'm  Joe  Lavoisier's  brother."  And  he 


66     The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

pulled  down  his  cap  again.     "  I  was  there  when  this 
thing  killed  him." 

"  O,  that's  it!  "  said  I,  catching  it  finally. 

And  then  we  both  shut  up  and  looked  down  at 
them,  getting  ready  to  start  the  riders  on  the 
wheels,  each  one  of  us  thinking  his  own  thoughts. 

"  But  one  thing,  by  Gripes,"  I  said,  looking  down 
at  that  long  leather  thing  underneath  us,  and  start- 
ing talking  to  him  under  my  breath  myself.  "  If 
you  start  any  of  your  murdering  stunts  this  time  — 
on  that  boy  of  ours  —  it'll  be  your  last  one. 
There'll  be  three  hospitals  full  of  you  just  as  soon 
as  I  get  near  enough  to  you  to  get  one  hand  around 
that  turkey  neck  of  yours." 

And  the  two  of  us  sat  there  glaring  at  him. 
'  There    they    get    up,"    said    Joe    Lavoisier's 
brother. 

And  they  started  the  machines  off  around  the 
track,  four  of  them  circling  for  the  flying  start, 
each  one  at  a  different  quarter  of  the  Bowl. 

"  Here's  where  you  see  it,"  said  he,  "  the  only 
place  on  the  stand.  Out  here  away  from  the 
judges,  where  you  can  watch  them  having  it  out 
alone,  among  themselves." 

"  Uh-huh,"  said  I,  watching  them.  They  didn't 
look  like  anything  human,  for  a  fact,  any  of  them 
—  in  those  round  helmets,  and  leather  clothes  they 
put  on  them  to  protect  them  from  the  fire  of  the 
exhausts,  and  the  splinters  from  the  board  tracks, 
if  they  got  spilled.  A  flock  of  earless,  hairless, 
goggle-eyed  leather  devils,  tearing  off  on  wheels. 

"  Bang,"  went  the  pistol. 


The  Bowl  67 

"  There  they  go  off,"  said  the  fellow  side  of  me. 
And  they  flung  themselves  up  on  the  side  of  the 
Bowl,  whirling  faster  and  faster. 

"  Some  pace,"  said  Joe  Lavoisier's  brother,  tak- 
ing out  a  stop  watch.  '  This  one  is  for  blood." 

"  Fifty-five  seconds  to  the  mile  already,"  he  said 
after  a  little  while,  studying  his  watch. 

Every  three  or  four  seconds  one  went  snorting 
by.  I  could  hear  the  old  Hoodlum  come  a-roaring 
all  the  way  around  the  track.  She  had  an  entirely 
different  sound  to  her.  She  was  walking  right  up 
on  the  man  ahead  of  her  —  one  of  those  two 
Rajah  riders. 

"  Look  at  her  go  up,"  I  said,  half  out  loud. 

"  That's  that  new  machine,  with  the  young  kid 
on  it,"  said  this  Joe  Lavoisier's  brother. 

"  Uh-huh." 

"  You'd  know  that.  You'd  know  it  was  some 
fool  kid,"  he  said. 

"Why  would  you?" 

"  Hitting  it  up  like  that.  She  can't  stand  it. 
Nothing  can.  Nor  he  either." 

"  You  watch  him,"  said  I. 

"  Yeah?  Well,  you  watch  what  old  Pegleg  Han- 
sen  does  to  him, —  the  one  ahead  on  that  Rajah 
there,  when  he  gets  up  to  him.  He's  got  a  nerve, 
anyhow  —  a  fool  kid  like  that  butting  in  on  a  race 
like  this,  against  old  birds  like  these  two.  They 
oughtn't  to  let  them.  There  ought  to  be  a  law 
against  it." 

But  Chuck  kept  right  after  his  man,  while  he  was 
talking. 


68     The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

Across  the  track  the  same  thing,  almost,  was  go- 
ing on.  This  Shang  Murphy  was  running  up  — 
up  —  up  —  on  the  man  ahead  of  him. 

"Shang  —  Shang  —  Shang,"  the  grand  stand 
was  yelling;  that  Rajah  crowd  —  everybody  riding 
one  those  days. 

'"  Listen  to  this,"  said  this  Lavoisier's  brother, 
poking  his  elbow  into  me.  This  Shang  was  lying 
up  behind  the  other  man,  cursing  him,  telling  him  to 
let  him  go  by.  Black,  putrid  oaths  —  something 
frightful  for  talk;  you  could  smell  it,  almost,  over 
the  gasoline. 

"  He's  after  him,"  said  Lavoisier. 

"  What  good  does  that  do  him?  "  said  I.  "  He 
can  get  by.  What's  "he  trying  to  do  to  him,  any- 


way 


This  young  fellow  sat  there,  chewing  his  gum, 
watching  them  out  under  his  long  cap  visor. 

"  Pulling  his  lung,"  said  he. 

"  Pulling  his  lung?  " 

n'  Getting  his  heart." 

"  Scaring  him  out,  you  mean,"  said  I. 

"  It  ain't  any  different  from  prize  fighting,"  he 
told  me.  "  The  first  thing  is  to  find  the  yellow 
streak.  Get  the  heart  out  of  them.  Then  you  got 
them. 

'There's  where  Joe  won  out,"  he  went  along. 
"  He  was  nothing  to  look  at.  "No  bigger'n  this 
young  kid.  But  nobody  ever  scared  him  yet.  He 
had  a  heart  like  a  lion.  You  got  to  have  one,  in 
this  game. 

"  Look   at  this   one   here,"   he   said,   watching. 


The  Bowl  69 

"  He's  done  before  he's  started.  Shang's  got  him, 
already.  He's  a  good  rider  too.  But  he  can't 
stand  thinking  what  this  murderer  might  do  to  him. 
He's  all  in.  See  that!" 

And  blur-r-r,  Shang  Murphy  went  by  him  finally. 
They'd  gone  now,  maybe  twenty  laps. 

"  Fifty  seconds,"  said  Lavoisier,  looking  at  his 
watch  again.  "  They  won't  beat  that  much. 

"  Here,"  he  said.  "  Pegleg's  after  the  other 
fellow  —  that  young  kid." 

"  Go  it,  Chuck,"  I  yelled.  "  Don't  let  him  bluff 
you." 

He  was  trying  that  cursing  act  on  the  boy  — 
blocking  him,  and  cursing  him,  pretending  the  boy 
was  crowding  him. 

"  Pretty  raw  that,"  said  Lavoisier.  "  Look  at 
that.  See  that  wabble?  He  won't  let  him  get 
by." 

I  could  look  down  the  straight  and  see  the  wheel 
of  that  Rajah  rider  —  that  Hansen  —  flinch,  as 
Chuck  tried  to  pass  him. 

"  That's  the  worst  I  ever  saw,"  said  this  man  be- 
side me.  "  They'll  take  a  lot  from  a  Rajah  rider 
—  the  judges.  But  they  can't  stand  for  that,  for- 
ever. Look  at  him  hold.  Look  at  him  block 
him." 

That  Shang  Murphy  was  sailing  around  after 
them  as  if  they  were  tied. 

'That's  how  they  go  down,"  said  Lavoisier  — 
"  just  one  touch  of  the  front  wheel  on  the  back  one 
ahead  of  you.  That's  how  they  killed  all  those 
bicycle  riders  in  those  old  paced  races.  That's 


70     The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

how  Jimmy  Michael  got  what  he  died  from  finally, 
if  you  only  knew  it.  Going  at  speeds  like  that  — 
once  is  enough!  " 

"  E-e-e-eh,"  yelled  the  grand  stand  beyond  us. 
Chuck  Powers  had  jumped  his  man  at  the  turn; 
sailed  up  and  over  and  down  again,  like  a  swallow 
over  a  barn. 

But  almost  — •  within  a  fraction  of  an  inch,  it 
looked  like,  from  the  edge  of  the  track. 

"  You  see  that,"  said  Lavoisier,  turning  around. 
He  was  warming  up,  and  getting  more  talkative  as 
the  race  went  on.  "  You  see  that?  Some  chances. 
That  kid's  either  got  his  nerve  or  he's  crazy.  Did 
you  see  that  Hansen;  he  ran  him  right  up  the  track. 
If  the  kid  wasn't  so  quick  —  one  eyelash,  and  it  was 
all  over ! 

'  The  same  game.  The  same  game,"  he  said, 
and  spit  between  the  benches.  "  The  same  way 
that  bunch  of  murderers  got  old  Joe.  If  these 
judges  stand  for  that,  they'll  stand  for  murder 
with  a  gun.  Take  them  out!  Take  them  out  and 
shoot  them;  and  get  it  over  with!  "  he  started 
yelling. 

"Look!  "said  I. 

"  Ah-hah,  I  thought  so,"  said  he,  sitting  down. 

They  were  waving  Hansen  off  the  track. 

"  He  was  looking  for  it,  I  guess,"  said  Lavoisier. 
*  They  put  him  in  probably  to  pocket  this  new 
man.  It  looks  to  me  as  if  they  were  afraid  of  him. 
Who  is  this  kid,  anyhow?  He's  quite  a  good  little 
rider,  at  that.  He  won't  scare,  that's  one  thing. 
And  he's  got  some  machine  there,  too.  Listen  to 


The  Bowl  71 

that  exhaust,  will  you?  Like  a  three  hundred  dol- 
lar watch.  And  look  —  look  at  her  pick  up  !  " 

That  boy  of  ours  —  loose  again  —  was  just  eat- 
ing up  that  third  man  —  the  one  that  Murphy  had 
scared  out. 

"  Look  at  this,"  said  I  to  Lavoisier.  "  Here's 
another  one.  Look  at  him  all  over  the  track. 
Look  at  him  wabble !  " 

"  That  ain't  it,"  he  said.  "  That  ain't  on  pur- 
pose. That's  where  Shang  cut  the  heart  out  of 
him.  He  thinks  he's  coming  into  a  pinch  again. 
He's  getting  nervous  again  when  he  thinks  of  them 
passing  him.  He  ought  to  be  taken  off;  he's 
scared  till  he's  dangerous." 

But  then  —  all  at  once  the  man  straightened  out, 
as  Chuck  came  up  to  him;  and  the  boy  went  by  fly- 
ing- 

"  That's  how  they  get,"  said  Lavoisier,  "  when 
they  get  thinking  once  of  what  would  happen  if 
they  went  down  at  those  speeds.  He's  done. 
There's  only  two  left  on  the  track  now." 

"Hey,  look  at  that  kid  go!"  I  said,  watching 
Chuck. 

This  other  man  sat  still,  taking  it  on  the  stop 
watch. 

"  Forty-five  seconds,"  he  said,  as  if  he  didn't 
believe  it.  u  A  mile  in  forty-five." 

The  old  Hoodlum  was  running  right  over  them. 
The  whole  crowd  got  it,  yowling  —  as  Chuck  came 
right  up  on  Murphy.  The  feeling  was  turning  a 
little,  too,  on  the  riders.  Chuck  was  getting  them 
on  account  of  his  size. 


72     The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

I  could  see  old  Pasc  in  the  pit,  down  there  under 
the  track,  holding  his  stop  watch  —  following  her 
and  listening  to  her  go. 

She  was  going  like  a  bird.  It  looked  good  for 
us. 

This  Lavoisier's  brother  was  listening,  too. 

"  Some  machine  that.  She's  got  fifteen  seconds 
on  that  Rajah,  I  believe,  to  the  mile.  She's  play- 
ing circles  round  her. 

"  Here's  where  the  race  begins,"  he  said,  "  be- 
tween these  two."  And  I  sat  forward,  watching; 
knowing  he  was  right.  The  whole  thing  came  now 
for  us. 

'  This  fellow's  got  the  machine,"  he  was  going 
on,  "  all  right;  and  he's  got  plenty  of  sand.  But 
can  he  stand  it,  when  that  murderer  once  starts  after 
him?" 

And  right  after  that  it  started. 

"  Hear  that.  Listen  to  that,"  said  Lavoisier, 
when  they  went  roaring  by.  "  He's  getting  after 
him,  pulling  his  lung!  " 

I've  heard  some  foul  talk  in  my  day,  but  nothing 
like  that  this  thing  was  putting  out  under  his  breath 
at  Tom's  boy,  as  they  shot  by  us. 

'  Try  it  -  Try  it  —  you  — "  he  said.  "  Take 
a  chance.  Go  on." 

Bang  —  just  before  he  got  to  us  —  up  and 
around  —  Chuck  went  by  him  —  not  waiting  a  sec- 
ond." 

"  Good  boy,"  said  Lavoisier's  brother.  "  Good 
boy.  You  got  something!  You  got  something 
this  time !  You  big  bum,"  he  yelled  at  Murphy. 


The  Bowl  73 

And  sat  down  again  quick,  watching. 

"  Look,  look,"  he  said.  "  He  almost  ran  away 
from  him  entirely.  He  almost  lost  him.  Too 
bad!  Too  bad!" 

"  He  can  lie  in  behind,  I  suppose,"  said  I. 

"  Forever !  Like  a  paced  race,  exactly.  You 
can't  shake  him,  with  the  front  machine  taking  off 
all  the  wind  pressure. 

"  That's  a  mistake,"  he  said,  talking  all  the  time 
now.  "  That  kid  must  have  lost  his  mind." 

I  saw  what  was  going  on.  The  Hoodlum  was 
ahead  now,  and  the  boy  was  doing  what  Pasc  said 
they  would  —  pulling  the  insides  out  of  that  old 
piece  of  junk  of  that  Rajah  crowd. 

"  It  takes  twice  the  power  driving  that  first  one," 
said  Lavoisier. 

"  You  watch  her,"  said  I. 

He  didn't  answer  me;  he  was  timing  her  again. 

"  Do  you  know  what  I  made  that?"  he  said  to 
me.  "  Forty-three  seconds !  "  And  he  started 
timing  it  over  again. 

The  grand  stand  was  catching  it  now  —  yelling, 
all  the  time,  at  those  two  brown  streaks.  The  third 
man  was  off  the  track  now  entirely. 

'  They  can't  do  it,"  said  Lavoisier  to  me. 
:<  They  can't  build  them  to  take  punishment  like 
that  mile  after  mile." 

"He  don't  think  that  way,"  said  I,  when  Shang 
Murphy  went  by,  still  cursing  in  that  low  voice' at 
Chuck  ahead  of  him  —  trying  to  "  pull  his  lung  " 
still;  pretending  he  wanted  to  go  by. 

"  Look  out !     Look  out !     The  next  time !     The 


74     The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

next  time!  "     He  kept  saying  —  trying  to  get  him 
jumpy. 

The  kid  said  nothing;  went  riding  right  along, 
according  to  orders. 

"  That'll  do  for  you,"  this  great  freak  was  say- 
ing to  him,  going  by  —  pretending  Chuck  was 
blocking  him  on  the  turns.  "  I  won't  do  anything 
to  you  now  —  but  crack  you  open  and  spill  you  on 
the  track." 

Tom's  boy  never  turned  a  hair;  just  kept  going, 
and  the  more  he  went  along,  the  madder  that  great 
ugly  freak  behind  him  got. 

"  You'll  get  yours  before  this  'afternoon's  over," 
he  called  out  to  him,  in  that  hoarse  stage  whisper. 
"  You  heard  about  the  other  ones  that  got  fresh. 
You  know  all  about  that  Joe  Lavoisier,"  he  said  to 
him.  I  heard  him  say  it  myself.  "  Well,  you 
look  out,  that's  all." 

I  looked  sideways,  and  saw  that  Joe  Lavoisier's 
brother's  face.  He  sat  back,  stopping  talking, 
looking  out  under  the  long  visor,  with  steel-blue 
murder  in  his  eyes. 

It  must  have  been  about  half  over  now.  Round 
and  round  they  kept  spinning  at  that  devilish  pace. 
The  little  one  ahead  and  the  big  one  chasing.  He 
didn't  curse  so  much  now. 

"  He's  tired,  I  believe,"  I  said  to  Lavoisier's 
brother. 

1  You  don't  know  what  it's  like,"  said  he, 
11  pounding  those  turns  at  those  speeds.  Your 
wrists  and  neck.  It  almost  kills  you.  Bang  — 
like  falling  from  a  second  story  on  your  head! 


The  Bowl  75 

That's  wheie  the  small  fellow  has  the  advantage. 
The  big  one's  showing  it  naturally." 

"  I  notice  he  isn't  curing  so  much,"  I  said. 

"  Maybe  he's  thinking  up  something,"  said  La- 
voisier's brother.  "  Something  wicked." 

"  How  can  he  when  the  other  fellow's  always  out 
ahead  of  him?  He  needs  his  breath,  that's  his 
trouble!" 

"  It  isn't  over  yet,"  he  said.  "  One  of  the  ma- 
chines may  break,  any  time." 

That  was  just  what  I  was  wailing  for  —  to  hear 
that  Rajah  crack,  the  ignition  or  one  of  those  auto- 
matic valves  on  her.  But  there  was  nothing  of  the 
kind.  That  Shang  Murphy  was  a  wonder  in  hand- 
ling a  machine  —  keeping  her  going.  They're 
born  that  way;  they  can  feel  a  machine,  a  good 
rider,  at  those  speeds,  and  what's  the  matter  with 
her,  just  as  if  it  was  a  part  of  their  own  flesh.  The 
two  kept  going  that  way,  ding-dong,  mile  after  mile. 

"  He's  not  saying  a  word  now,  is  he !  "  said  I, 
watching  him.  "  He's  all  in." 

"  He's  worse  that  way.  He's  framing  up  some- 
thing in  his  mind,"  said  Lavoisier.  "  That's  when 
you  want  to  look  out." 

And  all  at  once  —  wow !  —  the  grand  stand  went 
up  in  the  air,  beyond  us,  in  the  middle. 

"  He's  jumped  him!  "  said  Lavoisier,  looking. 

"Who  has!" 

"  That  kid,"  he  said.  "  That  kid's  jumped  him. 
He  caught  him  asleep! 

"  Gee,  some  kid,"  he  said.  "  Some  get-away. 
Some  speed.  He's  got  clean  away  from  him !  " 


76     The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

"  What  do  you  think  of  that,  you  big  stiff?  "  he 
said,  getting  up  suddenly,  and  shaking  his  fist;  and 
sat  down  again,  studying  his  watch. 

"  Forty-one !"  he  said,  finally.  "A  mile  in 
forty-one."  It  had  never  been  done  before,  or  any- 
thing like  it.  The  Hoodlum  was  running  away; 
around  the  track  again  after  the  other  one,  like  a 
cyclone  after  a  farmer's  wagon. 

The  grand  stand  started  yelling  —  jeering  Mur- 
phy. 

'  That's  what  gets  him.  Look  out  for  murder 
now.  If  he  tries  to  pass  him,"  said  Lavoisier's 
brother. 

"  That's  just  what  he'll  do,"  said  I,  and  he  did 
—  shot  up  right  beside  him. 

The  big  one  started  for  a  second  —  to  run  him 
up  to  track,  and  stopped  when  the  grand  stand 
started  groaning. 

Chuck  ran  right  up  beside  him.  You  could  have 
thrown  a  blanket  over  the  two  of  them  as  they 
went  by  us. 

"Come  on,  you  poor  old  stiff!  Come  on!" 
said  Chuck,  as  they  went  by  —  and  pulled  her  out 
some  more. 

"  Bang!  "  something  went  on  the  Rajah.  He'd 
done  the  trick  for  us  —  what  we  were  after. 

"She's  blown!  Blown!"  I  yelled.  "The 
piece  of  junk!  " 

'  Valve  stuck,"  said  Lavoisier. 

The  old  Hoodlum,  with  Tom's  boy  on  her,  sailed 
on  away, —  the  grand  stand  laughing,  howling. 

"  That  finishes  it,"  said  I. 


The  Bowl  77 

"  No,"  said  Lavoisier. 

"Why  not?" 

"  Not  if  he  can  murder  him.  Look  at  him," 
he  said.  "He's  laying  back  for  him  —  deliber- 
ately." 

He'd  got  his  machine  working  again  —  the  valve 
working. 

"  What's  he  going  to  do?  "  said  I. 

"  I  don't  know.  He  don't  himself.  He  ain't 
human  any  more  —  since  they  ragged  him  in  the 
grand  stand.  He's  just  murder  and  sudden  death, 
going  eighty  miles  an  hour.  There  ain't  any  more 
brains  in  that  head  now  than  a  rattlesnake's.  Just 
nothing  but  the  idea  of  hitting  out  and  killing  some- 
thing. 

"  He  don't  want  to  pass  him,"  said  Lavoisier's 
brother !  "  That  fool  kid  don't  want  to  go  by  him 
again." 

But  he  did  —  he  tore  right  up  to  him  —  again 
—  one  brown  streak  up  to  another.  Before  he  got 
there,  at  all,  the  other  one  was  cursing  him. 

"  Keep  off,  you,"  he  said.  "  You've  crowded 
me  once  too  often,  once  too  often." 

Tom's  boy  was  running  beside  him,  their  elbows 
touching.  He  didn't  budge  an  inch.  All  at  once 
it  came  —  right  opposite  us,  where  the  officers 
couldn't  see  it. 

"Look  out!"  yelled  Lavoisier's  brother,  stand- 
ing up  in  his  seat. 

I  saw  Tom's  boy  staggering. 

"  He  gave  him  the  knee,"  said  Joe  Lavoisier's 
brother  from  where  he  stood.  "  The  damned  dou- 


78     The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

ble    murderer.     I    saw    him.     He    gave    him    the 
knee." 

And  the  grand  stand  didn't  even  groan  —  all 
watching. 

It  was  all  over  in  a  minute.  Both  of  them  stag- 
gered from  the  thing,  going  at  that  speed. 

But  he  must  have  missed  him  —  so  he  didn't 
get  the  full  blow  anyway. 

"  He's  caught  himself,"  I  heard  this  Lavoisier 
say.  And  I  saw  myself  that  Tom's  boy  was  safe  — 
straightened  out  again,  when  —  bang!  —  the  big 
freak  wabbled  and  went  down  himself  —  tired  out, 
crazy  mad,  teetering  at  that  awful  speed,  I  sup- 
pose, like  a  man  all  gone,  running,  stumbling,  and 
going  down.  That  last  push  had  been  too  much 
for  him. 

Off  he  went,  flying  clear  of  the  machine;  rolled, 
slid  up,  and  slid  down  the  slope,  like  an  old  bag, 
with  the  machine  behind  him,  sliding  down  into  the 
pit. 

"  A-ah,"  said  the  grand  stand  crowd,  drawing  in 
its  breath. 

'There's  yours!  There's  yours!"  yelled  Joe 
Lavoisier's  brother,  up  beside  me.  "  There's  yours 
at  last,  you  damned  murderer !  " 

And  the  grand  stand  went  silent  —  waiting. 

All  you  could  hear  was  the  popping  of  that  ma- 
chine, on  its  side;  and  the  sound  of  the  old  Hood- 
lum slowing  up  on  the  Bowl  above  it. 

I  turned  around  to  keep  this  Joe  Lavoisier's 
brother  quiet. 


CHAPTER  VII 

TOM'S  BOY 

"  Shut  up,  you  fool,"  said  I.  "  That's  no  way 
to  act.  The  man's  killed." 

"  Aw,  to  hell  with  him,"  said  Joe  Lavoisier's 
brother,  watching  under  that  long  cap  visor.  "  He 
ain't  killed.  Nothing  struck  him." 

I  could  see,  myself,  one  of  those  long,  leather 
legs  moving,  when  that  little  bunch  opened  up  a 
little  around  him  in  that  pit. 

"  Only  scratched  up  some,  that's  all,"  said  my 
man,  watching  still. 

'  That  young  guy,"  he  said  after  a  while,  "  he's 
the  boy.  He's  there!  He's  just  like  Joe  was. 
You  can't  scare  him.  He's  got  a  heart  like  a  lion. 
He  reminds  me  of  him.  He  looks  like  him  on  the 
track.  A  little  fellow,"  he  said,  turning  around  to 
me.  "  A  little  fellow.  But  a  heart  like  a  lion ! 
Like  Joe.  Like  old  Joe  was !  "  and  pulled  that 
loud  checked  cap  down  over  his  eyes  again. 

They  were  standing  Murphy  up  on  his  feet  again, 
down  under  us,  and  everybody  was  getting  up  and 
starting  out  from  the  grand  stand. 

"  Well,  good  day,"  said  this  Joe  Lavoisier's 
brother,  in  that  hoarse  voice  of  his,  nodding;  and 
went  on  by  me. 

"  Good  day,"  said  I,  and  stood  there  still,  look- 


80     The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

ing  down  on  to  the  pit,  watching  them  all  get  ready 
to  come  up  over  the  track. 

"  Hello,"  said  somebody  right  back  of  me  —  a 
woman. 

I  turned  around,  and  there  stood  Zetta  Thomas, 
with  a  couple  of  rows  of  seats  between  us. 

"Why,  hello!1"  said  I.  "  Where'd  you  come 
from?" 

"  That's  a  long  story,"  said  Zetta,  laughing, 
showing  those  white  teeth  of  hers.  "  But  wasn't  it 
great?  Wasn't  it  glorious  —  huh?  Did  you  ever 
see  anything  like  it?"  she  said,  as  I  was  stepping 
over  the  benches  to  get  to  her.  "  The  way  the 
good  old  Hoodlum  went !  And  that  boy  —  that 
Chuck  Powers ! 

"My!  Think  what  we  owe  him.  Imagine," 
she  said,  watching  down  where  they  were  climbing 
up  out  of  the  Bowl;  pulling  at  the  tips  of  her  gloves, 
impatient  and  restless  as  usual.  "  Imagine,  if  he 
had  fallen  down  on  us!  But  now,  think  what  he's 
done  for  us." 

'  You've  done  something,  yourself,  if  my  mem- 
ory's good!  "  said  I,  thinking  where  we'd  have  been 
if  she  hadn't  put  up  that  ring  for  us. 

"  It's  nothing  to  what  he's  done,"  she  said,  her 
cheeks  red,  and  her  eyes  snapping,  looking  down. 
She  certainly  was  a  handsome  woman  as  she  stood 
there  that  afternoon,  dressed  up  in  some  kind  of  a 
black  and  yellow  dress. 

"  For  this  makes  it  all  right  for  us,"  she  said. 
"Now  — don't  it?" 

"  I  hope  so,"  said  I.     "  It'll  certainly  help !  " 


Tom's  Boy  81 

"  When  are  we  going  down  there  to  see  them?  " 
she  asked  me,  impatient  as  a  two-year-old. 

"  Let's  let  the  crowd  out  a  little  first,"  I  told 
her;  "  and  then  we  can  get  around  there,  and  see 
them  down  by  the  dressing  rooms. 

"  But  where'd  you  come  from?"  I  asked  her. 

"  I  couldn't  stay  away,  that's  all.  I  tried  it,  but 
I  couldn't.  I  couldn't  sit  there,  any  longer  —  wait- 
ing. Without  jumping  out  of  my  skin !  " 

"  I  don't  blame  you,"  I  said.  '  Your  own  race, 
you  paid  for.  But  when'd  you  start?  How'd  you 
get  here?  " 

"  How'd  I  get  the  money,  you  mean?  "  she  said, 
laughing. 

And  I  grinned. 

"  Well,  I'll  tell  you  how,"  she  said.  "  I  got  it 
from  the  grocer.  I  told  him  I  had  to  have  it. 
Something  had  come  up  that  was  life  and  death  to 
me.  And  Pasc  was  away  out  of  town,  and  every- 
body else  I  could  go  to.  So  he  let  me  have  it." 

"  How  much  did  he  give  you?  "  I  asked  her. 

"  Ten  dollars." 

"  But  that  would  only  get  you  here.  It  wouldn't 
take  you  back." 

"  I  know  that.  But  I  knew  I'd  find  you  here, 
didn't  I?  "  she  said,  looking  at  me. 

I  had  to  laugh;  in  spite  of  myself. 

"  Zet,"  I  said,  "  you're  a  corker." 

And  she  laughed  back,  flashing  those  teeth  at  me. 

"  Pasc  don't  know  it,  at  all,  eh?  "  I  asked  her. 

"  Know  it.  No.  Wait  till  you  see  his  face ! 
But  it  was  worth  it.  It  was  great,  wasn't  it? 


82     The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

We've  won  out,"  she  said.  ;<  We've  made  our  bets, 
and  we've  won.  And  now  come  on.  I  guess  we 
can  go  over  now,  and  see  the  boys  —  Pasc  and  that 
rider  who  won  out  for  us." 

So  we  went  around  that  way  finally,  talking  about 
the  race  and  Chuck  Powers. 

"  Hel-lo !  "  said  Pasc,  seeing  her  —  the  way  he 
always  did,  like  an  older  person  talking  to  a  nice 
child;  and  grinned  that  old  sudden,  jack  lantern 
grin  of  his.  "  So  you  thought  you'd  come !  " 

"  I  had  to,  Pasc,"  she  said,  and  kissed  him. 
"  Wasn't  it  great?  Where  is  he?  "  she  asked.  "  I 
want  to  see  him." 

"Who?"  said  Pasc. 
'  That  Chuck  —  that  boy  who  rode  for  us." 

"  Oh,  he'll  be  out  pretty  soon,"  he  told  her,  "  if 
you  wait  here." 

And  we  stood  there,  talking  about  what  it  was 
going  to  mean  to  us. 

"What  did  I  tell  you  all  the  time?"  Zetta 
wanted  to  know. 

'  We've    done    it   this   time,    I    guess,"    I    said. 
'  There  won't  be  any  doubt  now  when  they  come 
to   picking  between   our  machine   and   the    Rajah. 
Not  to  anybody  who  ever  hears  about  this  race." 

'You  know  what?"  said  Pasc.  "I've  got  or- 
ders now  for  ten  separate  machines,  and  two  agen- 
cies in  New  York,  without  stepping  out  of  my 
tracks  —  just  around  the  dressing  room." 

"  Didn't  I  tell  you  so,"  said  Zetta,  "  always?  I 
knew  it  —  all  the  time.  Boys,"  she  said,  and 
grabbed  my  coat  sleeve,  "  we're  all  going  to  be  rich ! 


Tom's  Boy  83 

And  when  we  do  get  this  money,  boys  —  listen  — 
we're  going  to  have  some  excitement  out  of  it. 
We're  going  to  live. 

"  You  remember  what  I  said  to  you  ?  When  I 
turned  in  my  ring  for  this?"  she  asked  me. 
"  About  what  I'd  do,  when  you  came  to  settle  with 
me;  when  our  money  came  in?" 

She  had  stars  down  in  her  eyes  —  pure  deviltry; 
like  you  see  sometimes  in  a  young  devil  of  a  horse. 

"What  do  you  take  me  for,"  I  said;  "  I  don't 
forget  my  debts  that  way." 

"  I  mean  it,"  she  said,  staring  right  at  me  with 
those  steady  black  eyes  of  hers. 

"  So  do  I,"  I  said,  laughing  at  her. 

"  And  I'll  tell  you  another  thing,"  she  said,  still 
looking  at  me,  "  if  you  want  to  know  it!  " 

"What's  that?" 

"  And  that  is  you  can  never  pay  this  boy  —  this 
rider  for  what  he's  done  for  us  today." 

And  we  looked  over,  and  just  that  minute  old 
Tom's  boy  was  coming  toward  us,  out  of  the  dress- 
ing room. 

"  I  can  try,"  I  said  to  her.      "  I  generally  do." 

"  Isn't  he  a  handsome  boy,"  said  Zetta,  seeing 
him. 

"  I  don't  know,"  I  said,  "  I  never  thought  of  it 
—  one  way,  or  the  other." 

He  was  though,  in  a  way.  He  had  this  devil- 
may-care  style  to  him  —  even  then  —  and  that 
bold,  kind  of  insolent  way  of  looking  at  you,  when 
he  wanted  to,  that  kind  of  took  the  women  —  as  it 
came  out  afterwards. 


84     The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

"  Goodness,"  said  Zetta.  "  I  didn't  realize  he 
was  so  old  as  that.  He  looked  so  little  next  to  that 
big  ogre  of  a  thing  he  rode  against." 

"  I  wouldn't  tell  him  that." 

"Why  not?" 

"  They  don't  like  to  be  told  about  it  when  they're 
little." 

"  He's  not  so  small,"  she  said,  "  when  you  see 
him  this  way. 

"  If  he  had  been  younger,"  she  said,  and  laughed 
back  over  her  shoulder  at  me,  going  out  to  meet 
him,  "  if  he  was  what  I  thought  he  was,  I  was  just 
going  to  take  him  around  the  neck,  and  give  him  a 
big  hug  and  a  kiss." 

And  she  went  up,  holding  out  both  her  hands  to 
him. 

"  It  was  great,"  she  said  to  him.  "  Great. 
Just  splendid.  You  beat  him  all  to  pieces  —  that 
great  big  beast  of  a  thing.  Didn't  you?  I  almost 
died,  watching  you,  from  excitement." 

'  You  know  what  she  said  to  me,  Chuck?  "  said 
"  She  said   if  you  were  only  a  little  younger, 
she  certainly  would  have  kissed  you." 

"  Go  as  far  as  you  like,"  said  Chuck,  but  his  face 
got  fire-colored;  he  dropped  her  hands,  right  away, 
and  stood  there. 

"  I  would,"  said  Zetta,  standing  looking  at  him 
in  that  straight-out  way  of  hers.  "  I  meant  it.  If 
you'd  been  three  years  younger,  I  certainly  would 
have  done  it,  too. 

"  For  you  saved  our  lives,"  she  said.  "  You 
don't  know  how  much  we  owe  you." 


Tom's  Boy  85 

"  Not  so  bad  as  that,  I  guess,"  said  Tom's  boy, 
shifting  on  to  his  other  foot. 

"  You  did,"  said  Zetta.  "  Maybe  you've  made 
us  rich  —  by  this.  And  if  it  does,"  she  said, 
"  you  want  to  make  them  pay  you  for  it,  too." 

"  We  will,"  said  I.  "  Don't  you  fret.  I  gen- 
erally manage  to  pay  my  debts  to  most  people,  what- 
ever I  owe  them,  whether  it's  a  good  turn  or  a  bad 
one.  I  always  have. 

"  And  you  did  us  one  this  time,  Chuck,  all  right 

—  a  good  one.     We've  got  to  hand  it  to  you,"  said 
I.     "  You  did  the  job  today." 

"  Aw,  I  don't  know,"  he  said,  looking  up  and 
down  again.  "  You'd  ought  to  killed  me,  if  I 
hadn't.  I  had  twenty  seconds  on  him  to  the  mile. 
I  had  the  only  machine  on  the  track." 

"  And  you  rode  it,  in  the  second  place,"  said  I. 
"  You  can't  tell  me.  I  saw  you.  That  big  mur- 
derer didn't  scare  you  much,  did  he,  boy?  "  I  said, 
slapping  him  on  the  shoulder.  "  He  didn't  turn  a 
hair  on  you." 

"Who?"  said  Tom's  boy,  stiffening  up  and 
looking  in  my  eyes  again.  "  That  big  stiff.  Not 
in  a  thousand  years!  " 

"  How  much  was  he  hurt,  anyhow?  "  I  asked 
him. 

"  Oh,  not  much." 

"How  much?" 

"  Splinters,   that's   all  —  from  that  board  track 

—  right  through  the  leather;  stuck  all  over  him,  like 
a  dressmaker's  pincushion." 

"Nothing  broke?" 


86     The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

"  Not  so  far  as  they  can  see." 

"  Well,  you  gave  him  what  was  coming  to  him 
this  time,  anyway." 

"  He  did  it  himself,"  said  Chuck.  "  He  wouldn't 
have  done  it,  if  he  hadn't  been  mad  with  the  heat, 
after  the  grand  stand  jollied  him." 

"  It's  too  bad  you  didn't  kill  him,"  said  I.  "  He 
needed  it.  The  damned  murderer.  And  you  want 
to  look  out  for  him  after  this.  He'll  be  laying  for 
you.  He'll  get  you  if  he  can." 

"He  can  try!  "  said  Tom's  boy,  glancing  up  at 
me  a  second  again,  with  those  eyes  of  his. 

"  Well,  there's  one  thing,"  I  said  to  him.  "  You 
won't  lose  anything  by  this  day's  work,  not  if  I  can 
help  it." 

"  Look,"  said  Zet,  breaking  in,  "  I  tell  you  what 
we're  all  going  to  do  now.  We're  all  going  over  to 
New  York  to  some  big  restaurant,  and  celebrate !  " 

I  saw  Pasc  grin,  and  I  did,  after  him. 
'  You've  got  the  money  for  it,  I  suppose,"  I  said 
to  her. 

"No,  but  you  have  —  somebody!"  she  came 
back  at  me. 

'  We  won't  have  —  not  when  we  get  these  bills 
here  paid,"  said  I. 

"  What'll  we  do  then?  "  she  said.  "  We've  got 
to  celebrate  somehow." 

'  We  haven't  made  our  million  —  yet,  remem- 
ber," I  said  to  her. 

Here,"  said  Tom's  boy,  "  I  can  let  you  have  it 
—  if  I  can  collect  on  this  prize." 

1  That  won't  be  necessary,  I  guess,"  said  Pasc, 


Tom's  Boy  87 

and  grinned  again.  "  I've  got  it;  I've  got  enough 
for  that  —  from  what  I  got  in  part  payments  on 
those  machines." 

"  All  right  then,"  said  Zetta,  "  come  on." 

"  Go  it  while  you're  young,  eh?  "  said  I,  feeling 
pretty  good  myself. 

"  We  won't  be,  any  too  long,"  she  said.  "  I 
don't  propose  to  miss  any  of  it  from  now  on." 

And  we  laughed. 

"  Well,"  said  Tom's  boy,  backing  away.  "  I 
guess  I'll  be  going." 

"Going?  Going  where?  "  said  Zetta.  "You're 
coming  with  us.  Why,  certainly  you  are.  This  is 
your  party,  mostly.  Unless  you've  got  some  other 
place  you'd  rather  go,"  she  said,  fastening  her  eyes 
on  him.  "  Have  you?  " 

"  No,"  he  said,  looking  up,  and  grinning  at  her, 
"  I  guess  not." 

"  Well,  then,  come  along  then,"  said  Zetta. 

"  Do  you  all  want  me?  "  he  said,  looking  at  me. 

"Sure,  we  all  want  you.  Why  wouldn't  we?" 
I  told  him. 

"  They'd  have  nothing  to  say  about  it  anyhow," 
said  Zetta.  "  This  was  our  race.  I  paid  for  it, 
and  you  rode  it." 

"  I'll  just  run  across  here,"  he  said,  when  we 
stopped  laughing  at  her.  "  I've  got  to  polish  my- 
self up  for  a  minute." 

"  Hurry  up  then,"  she  said.  "  We'll  be  waiting 
for  you.  We'll  walk  slow,  and  you'll  catch  up  with 
us." 

"  He's  not  much  more  than  a  kid,  after  all,"  she 


88     The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

said  to  us,  watching  after  him  running  back.  ''  The 
kid  freckles  aren't  all  off  his  face  yet." 

"  He's  half  a  boy,  I  guess,  and  half  a  man,"  I 
said. 

And  then  she  turned  around  quick,  and  shoved 
her  arms  through  Pasc's  and  mine,  and  started 
along  between  us. 

"  This  is  our  night,  boys,"  she  said,  looking  up, 
"  isn't  it?  We've  just  got  to  celebrate  some  way. 

"  The  only  thing,"  she  said,  "  to  make  it  com- 
plete would  be  if  Polly  was  here,  wouldn't  it? 
Have  you  telegraphed  her  yet?  "  she  said  to  me. 
"  Well,  you  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  yourself. 
You'll  do  it,  just  as  soon  as  we  can  find  an  office. 
She  mustn't  wait  a  minute,  sitting  worrying  about 
it." 

"  That's  right,"  said  I. 

"  I  can  see  her  eyes  snap,  when  she  gets  it,"  said 
Zetta.  "  I  can  almost  hear  her  stammer,  getting 
excited.  She'd  ought  to  be  here,  Bill.  She  put  as 
much  into  it  as  any  of  us  —  more." 

"  I  guess  that's  right,  too,"  said  I. 

"  She'd  take  her  heart  out  and  give  it  to  you, 
Bill,"  she  said,  looking  at  me  — "  if  you  wanted  it." 

"  And  then  get  mad,  if  I  didn't  take  it !  "  I  said 
and  laughed. 

'  You  don't  deserve  her,  Bill,"  she  said,  laughing 
back.  "  She's  too  good  for  you,  and  that's  the 
truth." 

"  I  guess  it  is,  at  that,"  I  told  her. 

"  Or  for  any  of  us.  She's  an  angel.  A  kind  of 
a  little  spunky  angel.  I  always  think  of  her  that 
way." 


Tom's  Boy  89 

"  A  fighting  angel,  eh,"  said  I. 

"  Yep,"  said  Zetta,  "  they  have  them  that  way. 
I  read  it  when  I  was  in  school  —  in  Milton's  '  Para- 
dise Lost' 

"  Look!  Come  on!  "  she  said,  looking  back  of 
her  shoulder.  "  Here  he  comes." 

As  we  went  out  into  the  street,  there  was  that 
poster  that  fellow  of  ours  had  pasted  out  on  the 
walls  and  fences. 

HOOT  — TOOT! 

GET  OUT  OF  OUR  ROUTE! 

HOODLUM ! 


CHAPTER  VIII 

A    MIRACLE    BY   THE    TAIL 

It  certainly  did  look  rosy,  on  the  face  of  it,  right 
after  that.  Every  mail  was  full  of  orders  and  ap- 
plications for  agencies  —  for  days  and  weeks. 
The  women  especially  got  all  excited  over  it. 

"  See  here,"  said  Polly,  pulling  out  this  paper, 
when  I  came  home.  It  was  the  second  week  after 
that  race.  "  See  here,  didn't  you  tell  me  we  were 
going  to  sell  two  hundred  machines  a  year?" 

"  We  ought  to  do  that,  anyhow,"  said  I. 

"  And  didn't  you  tell  me  you'd  make  fifty  dollars 
on  every  car?  " 

"  Nearer  sixty,"  said  I,  "  when  we're  going 
right." 

"  But  that  would  be  twelve  thousand  dollars  a 
year!" 

•'  Yep,"  said  I. 

"  Oh,"  she  said,  and  kept  still.  I  don't  sup- 
pose we'd  ever  had  fifteen  hundred  dollars  a  year 
before  to  spend  on  ourselves. 

But  I  didn't  speak  about  the  rest  of  it  to  her 
naturally.  I  just  kept  up  a  terrible  thinking  to  my- 
self. I  had  for  several  days  and  nights  then. 

"What's  the  matter  with  you?"  said  Polly. 
"  You  don't  sleep  at  all." 


A  Miracle  by  the  Tail  91 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know,"  said  I.  "  Something  I  ate, 
I  guess." 

u  Well,  I  guess  not,"  she  said,  miffed;  "  not  when 
I'm  cooking  for  you." 

"  Maybe  I  ought  to  cut  out  coffee,"  I  said. 
"  I've  been  drinking  quite  a  lot  lately." 

"  What  you'll  have  to  cut  out,"  she  said,  "  is 
working  all  day;  and  thinking  about  it  all  night. 
Go  to  sleep." 

"  Don't  worry  about  me,"  I  said,  "  when  I  get 
tired  doing  a  good  business  —  making  money  —  I'll 
let  you  know." 

And  I  lay  still,  and  figured  on  it  —  the  way  I  was 
doing  all  the  time  now,  to  see  if  I  couldn't  find  some 
loophole.  It  was  no  use  to  bother  Pasc  about  it. 
It  wouldn't  be  any  good;  and  that  was  my  end  of 
the  business  anyhow.  But  finally  he  got  it  himself. 

"  Here's  a  funny  thing,"  said  Pasc,  coming  in  and 
sitting  down  in  the  office  after  six  o'clock.  "  I  wish 
you'd  explain  it  to  me." 

"What?"  I  asked  him. 

"  We  claim  we  can  turn  out  three  hundred  ma- 
chines a  year  here." 

"  Yes." 

"  And  we're  going  to." 

"  I  see  orders  for  three  hundred  right  now," 
said  I. 

"  How  are  we  going  to?  " 

"You  don't  mean  machinery?  We  can  make 
them  up,  or  get  them  made  now;  you  know  that." 

"  No,  I  mean  money,"  said  Pasc.  "  How  are 
you  going  to  get  the  money?" 


92     The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

"  I  wish  I  knew,"  said  I.  And  I  shut  up  and  let 
him  talk. 

"  As  I  understand  it,"  said  Pasc,  getting  out  his 
old  envelope  and  stub  again,  "  you  get  twenty-five 
percent,  down  from  the  dealer,  with  the  order;  and 
twenty-five  more  when  you  deliver;  making  fifty  per- 
cent, when  your  delivery  is  made.  And  the  rest  on 
sixty  days." 

"  Yes." 

"  So  if  you  sell  a  machine  for  two  hundred  dollars 
to  a  dealer,  you  get  one  hundred  dollars  from  him 
and  it  costs  you  one  hundred  and  fifty  dollars." 

"  Yes." 

"  So  while  you  seem  to  be  making  fifty  dollars 
on  a  machine,  you're  really  out  fifty  dollars  in  actual 
money  for  every  machine  that  goes  out  from  the 
shop." 

'  To  say  nothing  of  the  time  before  that,"  I  said, 
"  while  we've  got  the  machine  being  made  in  the 
factory." 

'  Yes,"  said  Pasc,  with  his  old  blue  eyes  on  me, 
wetting  his  old  pencil  and  going  on  with  his  figuring. 

"  Now  then,"  he  said  slowly,  "  if  it  stopped  some 
time  —  this  thing  —  we'd  catch  up,  and  get  our 
money  in.  But  now,  growing  the  way  we  are,  we 
never  can  catch  up;  it  gets  worse  every  day." 

"  Is  that  right?  "  he  asked  me,  looking  up.  "  I 
want  to  get  that  right." 

"  That's  right." 

'Then  that's  a  peculiar  thing,  ain't  it?"  he 
said.  '  The  more  money  we  seem  to  be  making, 
the  less  we've  got,  You  wouldn't  believe  it !  " 


A  Miracle  by  the  Tail  93 

"Peculiar,  yes,"  I  said.  "Damned  peculiar! 
And  damned  dangerous !  " 

"  Dangerous!  "  said  he. 

"  It's  going  to  bust  us,  if  we  don't  look  out." 

"  Bust  us !  "  said  Pasc,  stopping  and  getting  it 
into  his  head.  "  Hm!  Making  money  so  fast  it'll 
bankrupt  us.  That's  a  new  one !  " 

'  What  are  we  going  to  do  about  it?  "  he  asked 
me,  after  a  while. 

"You  tell  me!" 

'  You  can't  cut  down  expenses  much  more." 

"No." 

"  Nor  take  any  more  of  the  work  ourselves." 

"  Not  and  live !  " 

"  Well,"  said  he,  "  there's  only  one  thing  then,  I 
suppose." 

"What?" 

'  You've  got  to  stop  your  deliveries  till  you  get 
some  of  your  money  in." 

"  You  can't." 

"Can't?" 

"No.  How  can  you?"  I  asked  him.  "You 
know  those  dealers  as  well  as  I  do.  They're  in 
business  to  sell  a  machine  when  an  order  comes  for 
one,  ain't  they?  If  they  don't  get  deliveries  from 
us,  they'll  sell  somebody  else's,  won't  they?  " 

"  Good  and  sure,"  said  Pasc. 

"  But  it  don't  stop  there.  If  we  lost  that  order, 
it  wouldn't  be  so  much.  One  order's  not  so  much. 
But  what  we  lose  is  the  dealer.  If  we  can't  deliver 
goods,  he  starts  for  the  fellow  who  can  —  and 
hitches  up  with  him." 


94     The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

"  Naturally." 

"  But  that  ain't  all,"  I  said.  "  The  minute  he 
does  that,  he  not  only  don't  push  our  machine  any 
longer;  he  knocks  it,  by  comparison  anyhow.  And 
no  matter  what  a  reputation  you've  got,  or  what 
your  goods  are,  you  can't  stand  continual  knocking 
like  that  —  especially  with  a  thing  like  ours  —  a 
motor  cycle  —  where  the  ordinary  man  don't  have 
any  real  knowledge  enough  but  what  a  dealer  can 
tie  him  all  up  in  ten  minutes'  talking." 

"So  we've  got  to  keep  growing!"  said  Pasc, 
after  a  while.  "Anyhow!  " 

"  Unless  we  want  to  die." 

'  That's  a  funny  thing,"  he  said,  thinking  awhile. 
"  If  you  grow  you  bust,  and  if  you  don't  grow  you 
bust  just  the  same.  You're  damned  if  you  do,  and 
you're  damned  if  you  don't.  And  as  it  is,  we're  in 
danger  of  being  killed  by  over-prosperity  —  too 
much  business." 

"  That's  about  it,"  said  I. 

;<  What  are  we  going  to  do  about  it?  "  he  asked 
me  after  a  while. 

;'  There's  just  one  thing,"  I  said,  "  that's  all. 
I've  been  thinking  over  it  day  and  night;  we've  got 
to  get  more  money,  somehow." 

"Credit?" 

"  I  guess  that's  all  you  can  get,"  said  I.  "  I've 
got  Briscoe  and  Company  to  help  us  out,  some,  by 
showing  them  what  we  were  doing.  That's  our 
biggest  account,  of  course,  and  I'm  working  on  some 
of  the  others." 

"What  about  the  bank?"  he  wanted  to  know. 


A  Miracle  by  the  Tail  95 

"  I've  been  trying  to  get  Proctor  Billings  over 
here  for  a  week  to  look  us  over,"  I  said,  "  to  see  if 
he  won't  give  us  a  little  more  than  that  one  thou- 
sand dollars  we've  got  now.  He  says  now  he'll  be 
over  tomorrow. 

"  I  God,"  I  said,  thinking.  "  What  a  power 
these  fellows  have  got  that  control  the  money! 
You  don't  realize  it  until  you  go  in  business  for 
yourself;  and  get  up  against  a  thing  like  this. 

"  You  sweat  and  drag  and  work  eighty-one  hours 
a  day.  And  when  you're  through  the  day,  and  cov- 
ered with  dust  and  oil,  and  blisters,  one  of  these 
damned  still-faced  dudes  from  a  bank  drives  over  in 
his  limousine,  with  a  flower  beside  him  in  a  little 
glass  vase,  and  decides  whether  you're  going  to  live 
or  die.  That  thing  drives  me  crazy.  It  always 
has,  ever  since  I  was  in  business  —  to  have  to  get 
down  and  crawl  around  to  men  like  Proctor  Billings, 
and  ask  them  for  permission  to  go  on  living." 

"What  will  he  do  for  us  in  the  bank?"  asked 
Pasc.  I  can  see  him  still,  sitting  there  in  his 
overalls,  with  his  envelope  and  pencil  stub;  and  his 
old  faded  eyes  staring  out  at  me  over  a  smear  of 
machine  oil  on  one  of  his  old  prominent  cheek  bones. 

"  Not  much." 

"  What'll  you  do,  then,  if  he  won't  help  us?  " 

"  I'll  have  to  try  and  tease  the  creditors  along 
the  best  way  I  can." 

"It  ain't  normal,  is  it?"  said  he.  "This  way 
we're  doing?  " 

"  No.     But  what  can  you  do?  " 

"  Get  some  money  in  from  somewhere." 


96     The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

"  Yes,"  I  said,  "  if  we  could.  I  thought  maybe 
I  might  get  some  idea  out  of  Proctor  Billings  along 
that  line  —  if  he  comes." 

He  came  that  next  day,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  locked 
up  in  his  limousine,  wearing  his  chamois  gloves,  and 
went  through  the  shop  with  me,  as  if  it  was  a  special 
favor  to  me;  and  Pasc  came  along  for  a  minute  and 
spoke  to  him,  and  looked  at  him,  all  smeared  up 
with  machine  oil  so  he  couldn't  shake  hands.  And 
then  Billings  flicked  off  his  new  gray  suit  with  a  fine 
handkerchief,  and  sat  down  in  the  office  for  a  min- 
ute or  two,  and  listened  to  me  talk  without  any  more 
expression  on  his  face  than  the  bottom  of  a  china 
plate. 

"  I  don't  see  how,"  he  said  finally,  getting  up,  "  I 
can  be  of  any  use  to  you.  We  can't  take  on  any 
more  of  a  loan  for  you  in  the  bank.  You're  over- 
extended too  much.  You  aren't  in  any  condition 
for  a  bank  to  take  up  —  from  what  you  say  your- 
self." 

'What  can  we  do?"  said  I,  getting  desperate, 
and  mad.  He  always  got  me  on  the  raw,  just  look- 
ing at  him  riding  around  the  town. 

'  You'll  have  to  get  in  more  money,"  he  said  in 
that  particular,  college  educated  talk  of  his. 

'  That's  what  I'm  trying  to  get  now,"  I  told  him, 
getting  madder. 

"  In  the  form  of  capital,"  he  came  back  at  me. 

"How'll  I  get  it?" 

'  That  I  don't  know,"  he  said.  "  All  I  can  say 
is,  we'll  continue  our  loan  at  the  bank,  but  we  can't 
possibly  go  any  farther." 


A  Miracle  by  the  Tail  97 

And  then  he  went  out  and  got  in  his  limousine, 
and  left  me  there  jumping  mad,  cursing  him  under 
my  breath  as  he  drove  away. 

"  We'll  pull  it  out  in  spite  of  him,"  I  said  to 
Pasc.  "  And  we're  well  off,  if  we  never  get  any 
of  that  kind  in  with  us.  He  and  the  old  man  to- 
gether," I  said,  "  didn't  have  blood  enough  in  them 
for  an  eel. 

"  We'll  pull  her  through,"  I  said,  talking  along 
to  encourage  myself.  '  We've  got  a  big  thing,  and 
I  know  it,  and  by  working  it  along  right,  we'll  come 
out  all  right.  We've  got  a  big  thing;  and  you  take 
a  man  like  old  man  Briscoe  —  he's  big  enough  to 
see  it. 

"  I've  got  to  keep  on  the  right  side  of  him,"  I 
said.  "  He's  a  quick-tempered  old  man,  but 
straight  as  a  die.  Always  willing  to  help  you  out 
—  if  he  thinks  you're  doing  your  part.  A  fine  old 
man  —  if  he  is  a  millionaire!  A  regular  oldtime 
New  England  mechanic  that's  earned  his  living  with 
his  own  hands. 

"Not  one  of  these  bankers  —  with  soft  hands 
and  hard  faces !  Not  one  of  these  fellows  with  the 
money,  that  earn  their  living  by  their  faces  —  never 
right  out  like  a  man;  always  bluffing  you,  keeping 
you  from  knowing  what  they  really  think,  or  plan, 
or  mean  to  do  to  you.  I  hate  the  whole  tribe  of 
them." 

"  How'd  you  happen  to  know  old  man  Briscoe, 
anyway?"  said  Pasc. 

"  I  worked  for  him  one  year  down  in  his  shop  in 
Bridgeport.  The  only  year  I  ever  was  out  of  this 


98     The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

town  since  I  was  born.  He's  the  man  we've  got  to 
watch,"  I  said,  "after  this  —  like  a  hawk.  Do 
what  we  tell  him  we'll  do,  to  the  dot;  or  there'll 
be  trouble." 

"  You'll  do  it,  all  right,"  said  Pasc,  getting  up 
and  taking  off  his  overalls. 

I  stayed  around  there  a  little  longer  —  till  old 
Tom  Powers  came  in  for  the  night. 

"  Hello,  Tom,"  said  I,  putting  on  my  coat. 
"  Well,  how's  the  old  Miracle  coming  on  for  you 
these  days?  How's  she  coming?" 

"  Good,"  said  Tom.     "  How's  yours?  " 

"  Too  darned  good,"  said  I. 

"  How's  this?  "  he  wanted  to  know. 

"  We're  selling  them  so  fast  it's  busting  us,"  I 
said,  and  I  stopped  and  told  him  a  little  something 
about  the  trouble  we  had  to  get  money  to  fill  our 
orders,  coming  in  so  fast. 

"  What  do  you  think  of  that,  Tom?  "  I  asked,  to 
see  what  the  old  man  would  say. 

'  They're  strange  acting  things,"  he  said,  "  these 
Miracles." 

'  They  are,  by  Gripes,"  I  said.  "  If  we  don't 
look  out,  this  one  of  ours  is  liable  to  be  too  much 
for  us." 

"That's  the  trouble  with  them,"  said  Tom. 
'  You  can't  tell  where  they'll  land  you.  You  can't 
tell  half  the  time  whether  you've  got  them,  or 
they've  got  you  —  after  you  get  hold  of  one.  Half 
the  time  all  you  got  is  one  hand  on  your  Miracle's 
tail,  wondering  where  she'll  go  next." 

"  And  you  with  her,  eh,  Tom?  "  said  I. 


A  Miracle  by  the  Tail  99 

"  The  trouble  with  them  is,"  said  he,  looking  up 
without  cracking  a  smile  on  that  old  skeleton's  face 
of  his.  "  They're  so  much  bigger  than  a  man  is. 
That's  the  trouble  with  them." 

And  I  laughed  and  went  out.  You  never  could 
quite  make  the  old  man  out.  He  was  a  queer  one. 
There  was  always  apt  to  be  a  lot  of  sense  in  that 
stuff  he  was  getting  off. 


CHAPTER  IX 

THE    LITTLE    PALE   BOOKKEEPER 

It  was  a  hard,  ugly  fight.  There  were  three  or 
four  times  in  those  next  few  months  when  we 
strained  our  credit  to  the  limit.  And  the  bank  was 
after  us  on  our  balance  all  the  time.  We  wouldn't 
have  got  through,  if  Briscoe  and  Company  and  some 
of  the  other  supply  people  hadn'it  helped  us  out  on 
the  showing  in  our  statements  —  watching  us,  of 
course,  like  hawks,  every  minute. 

But  this  particular  time  things  were  a  little  bit 
easier.  I'd  got  a  little  money  in  —  cash  down  from 
one  or  two  of  the  dealers;  and  I  was  feeling  pretty 
good. 

"  I  tell  you  what  I  think,  Pasc,"  said  I.  He  had 
come  in  for  a  minute,  between  jobs,  and  we  sat  there 
in  the  office.  "  I  believe  we're  beginning  to  see 
daylight.  I  believe,  if  we  turn  a  few  more  corners 
and  take  care,  and  do  everything  just  so,  we'll  pull 
out;  these  people  will  see  us  through  on  the  basis  of 
our  profits." 

'  That's  good,"  said  Pasc. 

"  And  they've  got  a  right  to.  If  nothing  scares 
them,"  I  said.  "  Do  you  know  what  I  think?  " 

"  No." 

"  I've  been  figuring  up  lately  what  we  are  making 
here.  What  do  you  think  we  are  likely  to  pull  out 


The  Little  Pale  Bookkeeper          101 
of  this  thing,  If  it  comes  out  right?     This  year,  I 


mean." 


"  I  haven't  the  slightest  idea,"  said  Pasc,  lying 
back  in  his  chair,  watching  me,  with  his  long  bony 
legs  in  his  overalls  stretched  out  ahead  of  him. 

'  Twenty-five  thousand  a  year !  Laugh,  if  you 
want  to,"  I  told  him,  "  but  it's  so  —  if  it  keeps  go- 
ing the  way  it  is  now;  if  we  pull  it  through  all  right. 

"  I  hope  we  can,"  I  said.  "  I'd  like  to  do  it.  I 
never  knew  how  we  could  get  outside  capital  in,  if 
we  wanted  it.  But  I  never  wanted  to  get  it,  if  I 
could  help  it. 

"I  tell  you,  Pas-,,"  I  said.  "I  always  felt  this 
way.  I  always  thought,  when  people  got  up  a  busi- 
ness and  pushed  it  through,  they  were  the  ones  who 
ought  to  have  the  benefit  of  it,  and  not  outsiders. 
Not  outsiders  —  these  men  with  the  money,  like 
Proctor  Billings,  for  example.  I  don't  know  as  I 
ever  told  you,  but  I've  always  had  a  suspicion,  since 
that  time  he  looked  us  over,  and  I  showed  him  our 
statements  for  his  bank,  that  he's  had  his  eye  on 
us,  more  or  less.  I  think  he  thinks  there's  some- 
thing here  he'd  like  to  get  in  on.  There  have  been 
several  signs  of  it,  for  one  thing;  and  then  I've  been 
told  so,  straight.  I  hope  he  never  does  get  us  where 
we  would  have  to  let  him  in.  There's  one  kind  of 
man  I  can't  stand." 

"  Seems  to  me  I  heard  you  say  that  before,"  said 
Pasc,  grinning. 

"  Yes,  and  you'll  hear  me  saying  it  again,  prob- 
ably," said  I.  "  We're  a  different  breed  of  pups. 
We  don't  take  to  each  other  naturally. 


102     The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

"  What  I  want  to  see  out  of  this  business,"  I  said, 
"  is  our  people,  you  and  I,  and  the  folks  that  have 
worked  with  us  to  build  this  up  —  get  what  there  is 
in  it." 

And  just  then  I  saw  that  Myrtle  —  that  little 
bookkeeper  we  got  from  business  college  to  take 
Wilkins'  place  —  look  up  at  the  clock  all  at  once,  and 
put  on  her  coat  in  a  hurry  and  go  out. 

"  I  wonder  what's  she's  forgot  now?  "  I  said  to 
myself. 

And  I  looked  up  at  the  clock  myself,  and  saw  she 
was  going  over  to  the  bank  —  late  as  usual. 

"  Late  again,"  I  said  to  Pasc.  "  She  couldn't  be 
on  time  if  her  life  depended  on  it.  She's  got  to 
hustle  now,  if  she  gets  in  at  all." 

"  She  ain't  very  strong,"  said  Pasc,  looking  after 
her. 

"  She  don't  look  well  to  me,"  said  I,  "  and  she 
never  has.  She  looks  worse  and  worse.  She  hasn't 
got  blood  enough  in  her  body  to  keep  a  robin  alive. 
I  don't  think  we  ought  to  keep  her.  Sooner  or  later 
she'll  have  to  go  anyway." 

'  No,  no,"  said  Pasc,  making  excuses,  as  usual. 
"  I  don't  think  so.  She'll  get  on  to  it,  before  long." 

"  I  don't  believe  it,"  said  I.  "  It  isn't  in  her. 
She  won't  do." 

"  She's  conscientious,"  he  came  back.  "  You 
couldn't  find  a  harder  worker,  or  anybody  that  was 
more  loyal  everywhere." 

'  That's  it,"  I  told  him.  "  If  it  hadn't  been  for 
that,  and  your  begging,  she'd  been  fired  long 
ago." 


The  Little  Pale  Bookkeeper          103 

"  Oh,  no,  she  wouldn't,  Bill,"  said  Pasc.  "  You 
say  so,  but  I  know  you  better  than  that." 

"  She's  got  so  now,"  I  said,  "  she  seems  to  have 
got  kind  of  panic-stricken,  following  around,  trying 
to  catch  up." 

"  You've  got  to  remember,"  said  Pasc,  still  find- 
ing excuses,  "  you  don't  ever  see  the  best  side  of 
her.  She's  scared  of  you,  always." 

"  Why  should  she  be?  "  I  came  back  at  him.  "  I 
always  treated  her  right." 

"  I  know  you  have,  always.  More  than  right. 
But  you  don't  realize,  sometimes,  I  believe,"  he 
said,  "  how  you  impress  people  who  don't  really 
know  you,  Bill.  You're  so  darned  positive  about 
everything  you  do.  You  go  after  everything  so 
strong." 

"  Maybe  I  do,"  I  said.  "  But  that  don't  make 
any  difference  in  what  we're  talking  about.  I've 
told  her  she  could  have  help  if  she  wanted  it." 

"  I  know  you  have,  Bill,"  said  Pasc.  "  That's 
perfectly  true.  But  she  wants  to  do  it  all  herself; 
she's  told  me  about  it.  You  could  see  how  you'd 
feel.  She  thinks  it's  her  one  great  chance  —  just 
like  the  rest  of  us.  She's  ambitious  to  do  it  all  her- 
self—  to  show  she  can;  so  if  she  does  make  good, 
it  will  be  better  pay  for  her  afterwards.  She's  am- 
bitious in  her  way.  And  she's  got  this  mother  and 
sister  at  home,  kind  of  partly  dependent  upon  her." 

"  I  know  all  that,"  said  I. 

"  She's  ambitious,  naturally,"  Pasc  went  along. 
"  She  wants  to  do  it  all.  And  she's  over-conscien- 
tious. That's  the  trouble.  I  honestly  think  half 


104     The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

her  trouble  is  because  she's  always  working  in  our 
interest.  I  think  she's  trying  to  save  us  money,  try- 
ing to  do  so  much  herself." 

"  I  do  myself,"  I  told  him.  "  That's  the  devil 
of  it." 

"  And  she  thinks  sometimes  she'll  handle  it." 

"  That's  just  it,"  I  said.  "  Look  at  it  now.  Out 
twenty  minutes,  just  going  around  to  the  bank. 
She  can't  do  it.  The  job's  too  big  for  her.  She 
can't  follow  it  around.  I'm  sorry  for  the  kid,  just 
as  you  are,  but  the  thing's  too  big  for  her;  that's  all 
there  is  to  it." 

"  It's  been  pretty  big  for  most  of  us,"  said  Pasc 
— "  when  you  come  right  down  to  it." 

"  It  isn't  killing  either  of  us  yet,"  I  said,  seeing 
again  how  pale  her  face  was,  when  she  went  out  — 
with  that  kind  of  bluish  look  to  it,  like  skimmed 
milk;  as  if  the  blood  was  all  out  of  her  body.  And 
great  dark-blue  rings  around  her  eyes. 

"Where  is  she  now,  anyhow?"  I  said,  wonder- 
ing what  kept  her  at  the  bank;  and  remembering  her 
face,  again,  I  suppose,  as  she  went  out. 

"  She'll  be  back  in  a  minute,"  said  Pasc. 

"  I  don't  want  to  work  her  to  death,  anyhow,"  I 
said.  "  I  don't  want  her  to  die  on  our  hands." 

I  was  worried  about  her,  too.  I  used  to  find  her 
there  evenings,  when  we  were  ready  to  close  — 
struggling  to  catch  up,  fighting  the  figures  on  those 
books  of  hers;  trying  to  get  them  right.  I  had  to 
send  her  home. 

"  I'm  sorry  for  her,"  I  said,  looking  up  at  the 
clock  again,  wondering  why  she  stayed ;  "  we  both 


The  Little  Pale  Bookkeeper  105 

are.  But  we  might  be  a  darn  sight  sorrier  for  our- 
selves for  something  she  might  do  to  us.  She  might 
be  a  dangerous  thing  to  us.  She's  got  so  now  you 
can't  rely  on  her.  And  she'll  make  some  bad  mis- 
take we  can't  afford." 

And  I  turned  and  looked  at  the  clock  again  to  see 
when  she  was  coming. 

"  Well,"  said  Pasc,  "  I  guess  we  can  try  her  a 
little  longer." 

And  just  then  I  saw  her,  finally,  outside,  coming 
on  the  street.  She  was  a  homely  kid,  thin  and 
small;  and  always  dressed  in  a  blue  serge  suit  that 
seemed  as  if  it  was  falling  off  of  her,  and  a  little 
round  cheap  hat. 

She  came  in  the  door  —  holding  her  bank  book 
and  this  slip  in  her  hand.  And  I  got  up.  I  could 
see  from  the  color  of  her  face  that  something  had 
happened. 

She  didn't  say  a  word.  She  came  right  in,  and 
walked  right  by  us,  and  sat  down  at  her  desk  —  and 
threw  her  arms  down  and  her  face  on  them,  and 
started  crying;  not  loud,  but  as  if  she  was  going 
to  tear  herself  all  to  pieces. 

"What  is  it?"  said  I.  "What's  the  matter 
now?" 

And  Pasc  went  over  beside  her,  trying  to  stop  her. 

But  we  couldn't  get  a  word  out  of  her;  either  of 
us.  She  just  lay  with  her  face  hidden,  and  when 
we  tried  to  make  her  talk,  she'd  just  sob  a  little 
worse,  and  bury  her  face  in  deeper. 

"What  is  it?"  we  kept  asking  her.  "What  is 
it?" 


106     The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

But  she  just  hunched  her  shoulders,  crying. 

She  had  on  this  little  cheap  round  straw  hat  of 
hers,  and  it  fell  over  crooked  on  one  side.  In  one 
of  her  hands,  that  stuck  out,  she  had  her  bank  book 
and  a  slip  of  paper. 

"What  have  you  done?"  said  I,  stiffening  up. 
For  I'd  got  a  suspicion  of  it  now.  "  What  is  it?  " 
I  said.  "  Come.  Come  on.  Talk.  We  ain't  go- 
ing to  bite  you." 

And  then  I  reached  out,  and  took  that  bank  book 
and  slip  of  paper  —  wet  and  sticky  where  she'd  cried 
on  it. 

I  took  them  away  from  her. 

"  By  God!  "  I  said,  when  I  looked. 

"  Don't,"  said  Pasc  to  me.     "  Don't." 

He  was  on  the  other  side  of  the  girl,  patting  her 
on  the  arm. 

'  You  know  what  she's  done  ?  "  I  said  to  him, 
bringing  my  voice  down  the  best  I  could.  "  She 
hasn't  made  her  deposit  today,  or  yesterday,  either." 

"Yes?"  said  Pasc. 

"  She  forgot  it  entirely  yesterday;  and  she  was 
late  today.  And  in  the  meanwhile  that  check  to 
Briscoe  and  Company  has  come  back,  and  been  pro- 
tested! 

"  Is  that  right?  "  I  yelled  at  her. 

"Don't!"  said  Pasc.  "That  don't  do  any 
good." 

"  Look,"  said  I.  "  That  is  how  it  was.  The 
check  came  in  yesterday;  and  yesterday  she  didn't  go 
near  the  bank  at  all.  And  she  came  in  late  this  after- 
noon, and  got  the  teller  to  write  me  this  about  it." 


YOU    KNOW    WHAT    SHE'S    DONE    TO    US?       SHE*S    BUSTED    US ! 

WIDE  OPEN!     Page  107. 


The  Little  Pale  Bookkeeper          107 

"  Isn't  that  right?  "  I  said  to  her  again,  and  took 
hold  of  her.  "Tell  me!" 

And  she  bobbed  her  head  up  and  down,  like  a 
crying  child  on  a  desk  in  school. 

"  Didn't  I  tell  you?  "  I  yelled.  "  Didn't  I  warn 
you  that  that  one  thing  must  be  attended  to!  " 

I  felt  Pasc  taking  hold  of  my  arm,  but  I  shook 
him  off.  I  was  crazy  —  just  about. 

"And  not  today,  either,"  I  said.  "Yesterday! 
And  you  said  you'd  do  it  right  off." 

"  You've  got  to  stop  this,"  said  Pasc,  pulling. 
"  You're  scaring  her  to  death." 

"  Scaring  her!  "  I  said  turning  on  him.  "  Scar- 
ing her  to  death !  You  know  what  she's  done  to 
us?  She's  busted  us!  Wide  open! 

"  You  know  what  they  wrote  us,"  I  said  to  him, 
"what  old  man  Briscoe  told  us  we'd  have  to  do; 
about  that  exact  agreement  we  must  carry  out. 
Now,  not  only  haven't  we  done  it,  but  our  checks 
have  gone  back  protested! 

"  We're  through,"  I  said.  "  He's  certain  to  shut 
down  on  us  now,  I  know  him  exactly.  And  the  min- 
ute he  does,  all  the  rest  of  them  will  be  on  top  of 
us  at  once." 

Then  I  stopped  talking,  and  went  over  and  sat 
in  the  chair,  holding  that  bank  book  and  that  note 
from  the  teller  —  trying  to  think. 

I  didn't  say  anything  for  a  while;  and  Pasc  didn't. 
There  was  no  noise  in  the  room,  but  that  girl  cry- 
ing, and  the  machinery  outside  —  going  grinding 
along,  out  in  the  shop. 

"  I  told  you  what  would  happen,"  I  said  to  him, 


108     The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

"  if  you  kept  her.  And  I  hadn't  more  than  said  it 
when  it  came  !  " 

"  It  was  our  fault,  too,"  said  Pasc.  "  Not  seeing 
it  was  done." 

"  Seeing  it  was  done!  "  I  said.  "  I  gave  her  spe- 
cial instructions  yesterday  afternoon,  just  before  I 
left  her.  And  she  said  she  would  start  right  out 
and  do  it.  Special  instructions,"  I  said,  "  that  no- 
body could  miss  but  an  idiot." 

'  You've  got  to  stop  that,"  said  Pasc,  setting  his 
fingers  in  my  arm.  "  That's  no  use.  It  only  makes 
it  worse.  She's  nothing  but  a  kid." 

And  when  she  saw  him  taking  her  part,  the  girl 
started  crying  louder,  letting  herself  loose,  in  kind 
of  half  hysterics. 

"  Oh,  Lord,"  I  said,  walking  up'  and  down. 
"  She's  got  to  quit  that." 

;'  What  are  you  going  to  do?  "  Pasc  asked  me. 

"  I'm  trying  to  think,"  said  I. 

"  It  was  kind  of  strange,  wasn't  it,"  said  Pasc  — 
"  their  coming  down  on  us  like  that  at  the  bank. 
They  usually  call  us  up  and  give  us  a  chance,  don't 
they,  in  a  case  like  that?  " 

"  Yes,  they  do,"  I  said.     "  They  have." 

"  Do  you  suppose  that  Proctor  Billings  would  be 
trying  to  play  some  trick  on  you?" 

"  I  don't  know,"  I  said,  thinking.  "  He  might. 
And  yet,"  I  said,  "  they  warned  me  once  or  twice 
before,  when  checks  came  back  on  them.  But  they 
might  be.  There  might  be  a  hold-up. 

"  Oh,  quit,  quit!  "  I  said.  That  girl  kept  going 
on,  worse  and  worse.  You  couldn't  hear  yourself 


The  Little  Pale  Bookkeeper  109 

think.  "  Keep  her  still,"  I  said.  "  I've  got  to 
think.  I've  got  to  work  this  thing  out." 

And  I  went  over  then  and  dug  out  that  new  state- 
ment of  the  business  I'd  had  made  out  for  us. 

Pasc  was  over  trying  to  stop  the  girl,  patting  her 
on  the  back  of  her  shoulders,  like  a  little  kid. 

"  It  may  be  a  hold-up,"  I  said  — "  by  Billings.  I 
hope  it  is." 

"  Hope  it  is,"  said  Pasc.     "  How's  that?  " 

"  Because  if  it  was  just  the  ordinary  thing;  if  he 
didn't  have  any  personal  interest,  he'd  just  let  it 
slide  along.  Our  account's  been  no  good  to  them, 
there's  been  no  money  in  it  for  the  bank.  He'd  just 
let  us  slide  —  as  you'd  expect  he  would,  if  there 
wasn't  something  in  it  for  himself.  You  could  talk 
to  him  all  night.  He's  got  no  more  insides  to  him 
than  an  ice-box. 

"  On  the  other  hand,"  I  said.  "  If  he  planned 
for  it;  or  thought  he  saw  something  in  it  for  him- 
self, I  could  go  right  to  him  and  show  him  he'd  got 
to  pull  us  out, —  if  he  ever  wanted  to  get  anything. 
For  once  this  thing  goes  smash,  it's  all  over. 
Humpty  Dumpty  wouldn't  be  in  it  for  a  minute  if 
this  thing  went  bankrupt! 

"  Oh,  quit,  quit,"  I  said  to  the  girl,  and  went  up, 
and  took  hold  of  her  arm  myself.  "  Nobody's  go- 
ing to  hurt  you.  Listen,"  I  said,  "  if  you  don't 
stop,  you'll  have  to  get  out,  that's  all." 

She  kind  of  shivered  then  and  stopped. 

Then  I  got  up  myself,  taking  that  statement. 

"Where  you  going  to?"  asked  Pasc. 

"  The  only  place  I  can  go,"  said  I,  starting  to  go 


110     The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

after  my  hat.     "  I'm  going  to  see  Proctor  Billings. 

"  She'd  better  go  now,"  I  said  to  Pasc,  nodding 
over  to  where  that  little  bookkeeper  was  still  sitting. 
"  She'd  better  go,  anyway,  where  she  can  have  some 
other  woman  with  her.  Her  mother." 

She  kind  of  dragged  herself  to  her  feet  then,  and 
Pasc  went  over  by  her. 

When  I  went  out,  she  was  getting  together  her 
gloves,  and  veil  and  stuff  —  clearing  away  her  own 
personal  stuff  from  the  drawers  in  the  desk.  Get- 
ting ready  to  leave  her  job.  And  Pasc  helping  her. 

And  I  went  along,  cursing  her  out  to  myself; 
wondering  if  I  was  going  to  save  anything  out  of 
what  she'd  done. 


CHAPTER  X 

BACK   OF   THE    BANK 

The  shades  were  all  down  at  the  bank  when  I  got 
there  —  drawn  for  the  day.  But  the  door  was  un- 
locked. I  opened  it  and  stepped  in. 

"  Gripes,"  I  thought  to  myself.  "  What  a  dark 
still  hole  it  is  in  here,  after  hours." 

Back  of  the  glass  you  could  see  the  clerks  with 
their  heads  down  by  their  green  electric  light  shades 

—  writing.     But  no  one  was  moving  around  or  talk- 
ing; and  there  was  nobody  at  all  in  the  main  cor- 
ridor.    So  I   went  along  back,  my  heels  clacking 
on  the  marble. 

'What  can  I  do  for  you?"  said  this  still-faced 
fellow,  coming  out  from  a  door,  bowing. 
"  I  want  to  see  Mr.  Billings." 
"  I'm  Mr.  Billings'  secretary,"  he  said,  and  smiled 

—  with  the  lower  half  of  his  face  only. 

"  I've  got  to  see  him  personally,"  I  told  him. 

"  I'll  see  what  I  can  do,"  he  said,  and  bowed 
and  disappeared  again,  and  left  me  standing  there. 
It  was  so  still  you  could  hear  the  pens  scratch  — 
those  white-fingered  clerks  working  on  their  books. 
I  stood  and  watched  them.  It  always  looked  to  me 
like  a  curious  way  of  earning  vour  living  —  sitting 
there  juggling  figures  in  that  still  hole;  more  so,  I 
suppose,  to  a  man  used  to  banging  around  a  machine 
shop  all  his  days. 


112     The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

"  Won't  you  come  this  way?  "  &aid  Billings'  secre- 
tary, coming  back,  bowing  again;  and  showed  me 
ahead  of  him  into  a  little  private  reception  room  in 
back,  with  one  electric  light  going. 

"  Won't  you  sit  down,"  he  said,  and  smiled  that 
smile  with  the  lower  half  of  his  face  again.  "  He'll 
see  you  when  he's  disengaged." 

"  All  right,"  said  I.     "  Whenever  he's  ready." 

Then  he  turned  on  more  light,  and  bowed  and 
went  out  again;  and  left  me  there. 

'  You  get  on  my  nerves,"  I  said  to  myself,  watch- 
ing him.  "  You  bow  too  much  to  suit  me." 

I  was  getting;  nervous,  probably,  over  this  game 
I  was  going  up  against  —  waiting  in  this  place  I 
wasn't  accustomed  to. 

It  was  stiller  yet  in  there;  a  small  room,  without 
any  outside  windows  —  fixed  up  regardless,  with 
red  leather  furniture  and  highly  polished  woodwork, 
and  little  oil  paintings  of  sheep  around  the  walls. 
Stiller  than  underground. 

I  sat  down,  and  ran  over  that  statement  of  the 
business  I  brought  with  me;  looked  at  it  all  again 
to  be  sure,  and  sat  waiting  —  all  the  time  with  my 
eye  on  that  door  in  the  shiny  woodwork  where  Bill- 
ings' secretary  had  gone  out. 

I  sat  there.  Not  a  sound,  from  anybody  —  for 
ten  minutes ! 

"  Gripes,"  I  thought.  "  He  takes  his  time  about 
it!" 

And  I  got  up  and  walked  around  and  looked  at 
the  pictures  of  the  sheep.  And  watched  that  shiny 
door  sideways! 


Back  of  the  Bank  113 

It  opened  once,  and  my  man  —  the  secretary  — 
came  back  again.  And  I  got  up  expecting  to  be 
ushered  in. 

"  Not  yet,"  he  said.  "  He's  still  engaged." 
And  he  went  on  out,  stepping  softly  on  that  oriental 
rug  —  every  hair  in  his  head  and  thread  in  his 
clothes  and  muscle  in  his  face  just  where  it  ought 
to  be. 

And  I  went  back  and  sat  down  again  —  picking 
at  my  hat  band  in  my  lap,  waiting.  It  struck  me 
sitting  there:  "  How  many  other  fellows  must  have 
sat  here,  in  this  still  hole,  just  as  I  am  now,  waiting 

—  and  got  turned  down  ! 

"  I  God,"  I  said  to  myself,  "  what  a  power  these 
still-faced  fellows  have  got  over  you.  In  these 
banks !  Just  sit  and  smile,  and  make  you  wait. 
Forever,  if  they  want  to.  Just  say  they  can't  see 
you. 

"  Refuse  to  see  you  at  all,"  I  said,  half  out  loud 

—  and  pulled  out  on  my  collar.     And  got  up  on  my 
feet,  thinking  of  it!     The  sweat  came  right  out  on 
me. 

And  I  sat  right  down  again  and  stayed  there  — 
watching  that  door  as  if  I  expected  the  devil  to  pop 
out  of  it.  Fighting  something  you  know  is  one 
thing;  fighting  something  back  of  a  door,  that  don't 
make  a  noise,  is  another. 

"  Won't  you  come  in,  now?  "  said  Billings'  secre- 
tary, opening  it  without  a  sound. 

And  Jie  bowed  and  showed  me  out  ahead  of  him, 
still  and  polite  as  an  undertaker  at  a  country  funeral. 
And  I  pulled  my  coat  collar  down,  seeing  his  smooth 


114    The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

one,  and  followed  down  after  him  into  Proctor  Bill- 
ings' private  office. 

"  Come  in,  won't  you?  "  said  Proctor  Billings  at 
the  door,  and  held  out  that  long  cold  hand  of  his. 
"  Sit  down."  And  smiled  with  the  lower  part  of 
his  face  like  that  secretary,  without  the  eyes  lighting 
up  at  all. 

Right  over  him,  where  he  sat  down  at  his  desk, 
hung  the  face  of  old  man  Billings,  his  father,  an  oil 
painting  taken  just  before  he  died;  as  like  the  other 
man  as  the  two  Indians  on  two  copper  cents  —  as 
I  always  said  —  and  just  as  hard.  Only  the  son 
was  polished  by  his  education. 

'Will  you  smoke  a  cigarette?"  he  said  to  me, 
and  handed  out  his  gold  case.  And  I  took  one,  with 
his  gilt  monogram  on  it. 

"Now  what  can  I  do  for  you,  Mr.  Morgan?" 
he  said,  making  that  faint  smile  on  his  lips  again  — 
with  just  as  much  expression  in  those  gray  eyes  of 
his  as  two  steel  balls  would  have.  And  his  face  fell 
still  again. 

"  I  came  to  see  you  about  that  check  of  mine," 
I  told  him. 

"  What  check?  "  he  asked  me. 

1  That  one  you  sent  to  protest .     The  one  to 

Briscoe  —  for  insufficient  funds,"  I  went  on  explain- 
ing. 

Not  a  flicker  in  that  face,  anywhere! 

"I'm  sorry,"  he  said  finally,  "but  I'm  afraid 
you'll  have  to  tell  me  all  about  it." 

So  I  did;  what  else  was  there  to  do?  And  he 
sat  there  watching  me,  listening  —  to  me  explaining 


Back  of  the  Bank  115 

still.  I  was  doing  all  the  talking,  I  saw  that.  I  was 
almost  begging  him  now.  It  made  me  hot.  But 
the  madder  I  got,  the  more  I  had  to  go  along  —  he 
doing  nothing  at  all  but  listening. 

"  If  it  had  been  my  fault,"  I  said,  "  I  wouldn't 
feel  so  strong  about  it.  I  wouldn't  feel  I  had  just 
the  same  right  to  be  here  now,  asking  you  to  help 
us  out." 

And  he  nodded,  listening,  without  the  slightest 
expression  in  his  face  —  one  way  or  the  other. 

"  I  don't  see  now,"  I  said,  flaring  up  a  second,  in 
spite  of  myself,  "  why  it  was  you  didn't  notify  us, 
when  it  happened.  Give  us  a  chance,  anyway." 

"  Let's  find  out,"  said  Proctor  Billings,  and  stuck 
one  of  those  long  white  fingers  on  a  push  button. 

"  Was  Mr.  Morgan's  check  protested  yesterday?  " 
he  asked  the  man  who  came  in  —  one  of  the  tellers. 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Without  notice  to  him?  " 

11  Yes." 

"Why?" 

"  They'd  had  their  two  warnings  for  overdraw- 
ing this  month,"  the  teller  said,  and  stood  up,  stiffer 
than  a  soldier,  watching  him  —  and  avoiding  my 
eyes. 

"  Is  that  right?  "  said  Billings  to  me. 

"  Probably  it  is,"  said  I.  "  I  told  you  how  it  hap- 
pened." 

;<  We've  had  a  lot  of  trouble  with  that  account, 
Mr.  Billings,"  said  the  teller,  still  watching  him. 
"  You  know  that." 

"  That's  all,"  said  Proctor  Billings,  without  an- 


116     The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

swering  him.  "  When  you  go  out,  will  you  send  me 
in  the  card  on  that  account,  please." 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  the  teller,  and  bowed  to  him, 
and  went  out.  And  I  sat  there,  waiting. 

"You  see?"  said  Billings,  asking  another  ques- 
tion. 

"  Yes,"  said  L 

"  That's  our  rule." 

"  I  see,"  said  I,  holding  back  a  second  or  two  to 
try  if  he  would  go  on  talking.  "  I  see,"  I  said, 
when  he  said  nothing.  "  But  that  doesn't  help  me 
any.  What  I've  got  to  see  is  how  I'm  going  to  get 
out  of  this.  These  Briscoe  people  are  our  biggest 
creditors,  giving  us  special  accommodations,  under 
a  special  agreement.  God  knows  what  they'll  do  to 
us,  when  our  check  goes  back  to  them." 

He  sat  there,  waiting,  smoking,  hearing  me  ex- 
plain, with  the  picture  of  his  father  over  him,  and 
a  vase  of  cut  flowers  on  his  desk,  all  his  ways  and 
face  and  manners  still  and  quiet  and  exactly  right 
—  and  showing  exactly  nothing  of  what  he  thought! 

"  I've  come  here,"  I  said,  "  because  you're  the 
only  man  in  the  world  now  that  can  pull  us  out." 

"  Well,"  he  said.  "  What  is  it  we  can  do  for 
you?" 

"  Can't  you  stop  that  check  before  it  gets  back  to 
them?" 

"  Let's  see,"  he  said,  and  pushed  a  button  on  his 
desk  once  more. 

"  Just  where  is  that  check?  "  he  asked  the  teller, 
when  he  came  in  again.  "  Could  we  stop  it  now 
before  it  gets  back  to  Briscoe  and  Company?  " 


Back  of  the  Bank  117 

"  I  don't  know.  I  don't  think  so.  But  I'm  not 
quite  sure." 

'  You  see,  please." 

"  All  right,"  the  teller  said.  "  And  here's  that 
card  of  the  account  you  were  asking  for,  Mr.  Bill- 
ings." 

And  he  bowed  again,  and  went  out.  And  we  two 
sat  there  —  Proctor  Billings  looking  over  my  ac- 
count, while  I  gaped  around  at  the  flowers  on  his 
desk  and  the  walls  and  the  picture  of  old  man 
Billings  over  him  —  with  his  cold  face,  and  his 
straight  lips,  and  his  old  long  nose,  thin  as  an  icicle. 
'  They  certainly  do  look  alike,"  I  said  to  myself. 
'  The  same  eyes  and  mouth  —  the  same  long,  thin, 
frozen  noses  " ;  and  I  thought  again  of  what  they 
used  to  say  about  the  old  man  —  that  when  he  had 
the  nose-bleed  it  was  ice  water  that  came  out  and 
froze  on  his  chin. 

This  young  man  was  just  like  him,  you  could  see, 
the  same  thing  exactly,  with  a  college  education, 
trained  in  this  game  of  keeping  his  face  still,  han- 
dling money,  from  the  time  they  gave  him  his  first 
quarter. 

He  sat  there  now,  motionless,  reading  my  bank 
statement. 

"  I  hope  you  find  you  can  catch  the  thing,  some- 
where," I  broke  in  finally. 

"  Come  in,"  said  Proctor  Billings,  turning  to/the 
door.  Then  the  teller  walked  in  again. 

"  It's  too  late,"  he  said.  "  They  say  that  it's 
gone  through.  The  notification  will  get  to  Briscoe 
and  Company  tomorrow  morning  in  the  mail." 


118    The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

"  That's  all,"  said  Proctor  Billings,  dismissing 
him. 

"  It  can't,"  I  said.  I  was  almost  crazy. 
"  You've  got  to  stop  it  for  me  somewhere,"  and  I 
got  up  on  my  feet.  I  felt  like  a  fish  with  a  net 
around  it,  drawing  in.  "  We've  got  to  do  some- 
thing! "  I  said. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  and  took  another  cigarette. 
"What  would  you  suggest?  We'll  do  all  we  can  for 
you,"  he  said,  and  smiled  that  lip  smile  of  his  again 
— "  reasonably." 

"Can't  you  call  them  up  on  long  distance?"  I 
asked  him.  "  You  know  them  personally,  don't 
you?" 

"  Yes." 

"  The  old  man  Briscoe?  " 

"  Very  well,  indeed." 

"  Can't  you  call  them  up  and  tell  them  then?  " 

"Tell  them  what?" 

"  What  I  told  you.  About  how  it  happened. 
About  that  girl's  mistake." 

'  That  wouldn't  do  you  any  good  now,"  he  said 
to  me,  holding  his  cigarette  off  and  watching  it. 

"Why  not  wouldn't  it?" 

;'  That  isn't  what  they'd  ask  me  now,  if  I  called 
them,  now  their  check's  gone  back;  they  wouldn't 
stop  there.  They'd  be  sure  to  ask  me  now  how  you 
stand  anyway.  How  solvent  I  considered  you,  my- 
self. That  would  be  it,  wouldn't  it?  "  he  asked  me. 

"  Probably  it  might,"  said  I. 

"What  could  I  tell  them?"  he  wanted  to  know 
while  I  sat  still.  "  What  could  I  say  to  them  from 


Back  of  the  Bank  119 

this?"  he  said,  and  flipped  that  statement  of  my 
bank  account  across  the  desk  to  me. 

I  looked  at  it  —  and  laid  it  down ! 

"You  owe  them  money,  don't  you?"  he  asked 
me.  "  And  a  lot  of  it?  "  he  asked  me. 

I  nodded  to  him. 

"  What  they'll  want  to  know  of  me  I  should  im- 
agine —  especially  if  I  call  them  up  —  is  whether,  in 
my  opinion,  they'll  get  it  back;  what  the  best  thing 
is  for  them  to  do." 

"  I  suppose  so,"  I  answered  him  finally. 

"What  could  I  answer  them?  What  could  I 
advise  them,"  he  said,  "  from  what  I  know?  " 

He  had  me  cold,  on  the  face  of  the  thing  —  all 
wrong;  explaining,  explaining,  explaining  from  the 
beginning  —  and  still  wrong  at  the  end.  And  he  sit- 
ting there,  watching,  asking  questions. 

He  had  me  there  with  my  back  against  the  wall, 
fighting  for  my  life;  and  everything  polite  and  still 
and  smiling,  without  turning  over  one  of  those  white 
hands  of  his. 

It  made  me  hot  to  see  him  manceuvering,  play- 
ing me  off  my  feet  in  that  game  of  his  I  didn't  know. 
It  made  me  mad,  but  at  the  same  time  I  saw,  quick 
as  a  flash,  it  gave  me  the  opening  I  was  after. 

II  I'll  tell  you  what  you  can  advise  them,"  I  said, 
staring  into  those  metal  eyes  of  his,  "  if  you  want  to 
know.     And  you  yourself,  too.     Just  this  one  thing. 
If  they  shut  down  on  us  now,  we're  busted !  " 

He  sat  looking  at  me. 

"  Naturally,"  I  said,  going  ahead,  "  you're  inter- 
ested, too.  Or  your  bank  is  —  to  the  tune  of  a 


120    The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

thousand  dollars,  anyhow.  But  it's  in  your  hands," 
I  said.  "  You  can  let  us  go  on,  or  you  can  bust  us 
—  for  the  mistake  of  a  fool-girl  bookkeeper,  if  you 
want  to!  " 

He  sat  still,  looking  at  me,  behind  that  mask  of 
his. 

"  But  I  want  you  to  understand  this,"  I  said, 
"  before  you  do  it.  I  want  you  to  understand  if  you 
do,  or  they  do,  you'll  both  be  doing  the  one  thing 
that'll  hurt  yourselves  most." 

"Why?"  he  asked,  speaking  again  finally,  and 
sat  still  again,  with  those  polished  steel  eyes  on  me. 

"  I'll  show  you  why,"  said  I.  And  I  pulled  out 
this  statement  of  the  business  from  my  pocket. 

'  You  remember  the  bicycle  business,"  I  said. 
"  How  much  there  was  left  of  it  when  it  tumbled?  " 

He  smiled,  looking  at  me  —  the  smile  thinner 
than  the  edge  of  a  knife. 

"  Quite  well,"  he  said,  in  that  college  educated 
talk  of  his. 

"  One  pile  of  junk,"  said  I.  "  Wheels  and  screws 
and  tubing!  " 

"  And  crazy  credits,"  said  he. 
'  Well,  here  it  is,"  said  I,  and  tapped  my  paper, 
"  right  over  again !     With  this  one  difference  !  " 

"What?" 

"  Stopped,  it's  the  same  —  a  heap  of  junk.  But 
going,  it's  a  fortune !  " 

He  said  nothing  at  all. 

"  A  fortune,"  I  said,  and  slapped  down  the  paper 
on  his  desk.  "  Fifty  thousand  dollars  a  year,  next 
year,  if  it  keeps  going!  " 


Back  of  the  Bank  121 

He  reached  cut  his  hand  for  it.  But  I  didn't  let 
it  go  yet. 

"  And  another  thing,"  I  said,  looking  him  in  those 
eyes,  "  it's  just  as  well  to  understand.  This  busi- 
ness is  our  business !  And  anybody  that  thinks  he 
can  grab  it  away  from  us  and  run  it  himself,  will 
find  when  he  comes  to  look  at  it,  he's  got  just  the  neck 
and  tail  feathers,  that's  all ! 

44  This  is  a  two-man  business,"  I  told  him.  "  We 
started  it  and  made  it  and  know  it.  And  we're  the 
only  ones  that  do.  That  business  is  all  carried 
around  under  two  hats.  And  nobody  wants  to  make 
the  mistake  of  thinking  they  can  get  it,  and  set  it 
on  its  feet,  and  start  it  going  again,  without  us. 
For  they  can't.  That's  one  sure  thing." 

44  Fifty  thousand  dollars  a  year!  "  he  said,  pay- 
ing no  more  attention  to  that  last  talk  of  mine  than 
as  if  I  hadn't  been  giving  it  at  all. 

"  Yes,"  said  I.     "  Take  a  look  at  it  I  " 

And  I  handed  him  the  statement. 

"  This  will  show  you  the  whole  thing,"  I  said. 
"  What  we've  done,  and  what  we've  got,  and  what 
we're  going  to  do." 

He  ran  his  eye  down  it. 

"Who  made  this  out  for  you?"  he  asked  me. 
"Is  it  reliable?" 

"  It  ought  to  be.  I  got  the  best  people  in  town 
to  do  it  " ;  and  I  told  him  who  it  was. 

He  glanced  his  eye  up  and  down  and  turned  the 
pages. 

14  Would  you  care  to  let  me  take  this?  "  he  asked 
me. 


122     The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

"  Glad  to,"  said  I. 

"Overnight?" 

"  Yes,  certainly.  But  in  the  meantime,  what 
about  getting  Briscoe  and  Company  on  the  long  dis- 
tance?" 

"  It's  too  late  today,"  he  said.  "  They'll  be  gone 
for  the  night.  Besides,"  he  said,  and  turned  that 
mask  of  his  on  me  again,  talking  that  polite,  cold 
talk,  "  what  is  there  I  could  say  to  them  —  yet?  " 

And  he  got  up  from  his  chair,  and  stood  there,  in 
front  of  his  flowers,  under  the  painting  of  the  old 
man.  And  I  got  up  after  him.  That  was  all  there 
was  for  me  to  do. 

11 1  want  to  say  this  thing,  though,  before  I  go," 
said  I,  looking  into  those  blank  eyes  of  his,  "  if  you 
do  this,  naturally  we  ain't  asking  you  to  do  it  for 
nothing." 

"  I  see,"  he  said,  freezing  up  stiffer  still.  "  Well, 
this  is  scarcely  the  time  to  discuss  that." 

I  could  see  then  I  hadn't  suited  him,  the  way  I 
got  at  it. 

"  I'll  let  you  hear  from  me  in  the  morning,"  he 
said,  and  held  out  that  long  hand  —  and  smiled  that 
thin-lip  smile. 

And  I  went  out,  through  that  empty  private  recep- 
tion room  with  the  pictures  of  the  sheep  on  the  wall. 
Stiller  than  ever;  all  the  electric  lights  out  but  one! 

"  Gripes,"  I  said  to  myself,  "  what  a  power  these 
still-faced  dudes  with  the  money  have  over  you !  " 

Not  a  word,  not  a  flicker  of  an  eyelash  or  a 
change  of  a  muscle  in  his  face  to  show  where  I  stood. 
It  was  a  part  of  the  game  they  were  trained  to  — 


Back  of  the  Bank  123 

these  men  that  run  the  banks;  these  bowing  men  with 
white  fingers  and  fine  clothes  and  masked  faces  — 
these  fellows  that  deal  in  money. 

"  He's  got  me,"  I  said  to  myself,  out  in  the  twi- 
light in  the  street.  "  He's  got  me  right  in  the  palm 
of  his  hand.  He  can  ruin  me  as  easy  as  he  can 
shut  up  his  fingers, —  if  he  thinks  that'll  figure  out 
best.  All  he  needs  to  do  is  to  sit  and  watch  and  wait. 
All  he's  got  to  do  is  to  do  nothing!  " 

;'  What  a  grip  they've  got  on  us,"  I  said,  turning 
to  go  home.  "  What  a  great  big  powerful  thing 
these  fellows  have  got  control  of  1  " 


CHAPTER  XI 

AN   OPTION 

We  sat  there,  Pasc  and  I,  that  next  morning  in 
our  old  office,  he  on  his  side  and  I  on  mine,  not  say- 
ing a  word,  waiting.  I  felt  rotten.  I'd  hardly  slept 
all  night. 

"  What  do  you  suppose  he'll  do  to  us,  now  he's 
got  us?  "  I  asked  Pasc,  finally,  sitting  there  with  my 
head  in  my  hands.  I  had  a  headache  over  my  eyes 
that  jumped  like  a  young  rabbit. 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Pasc,  looking  up. 

He  was  over  there  at  that  old  table  he  had  on  the 
other  side  of  the  room  from  me,  with  his  old  stub 
and  envelope  out,  working  like  a  beaver.  He'd  got 
an  idea  during  the  night  on  an  auxiliary  exhaust,  or 
something,  and  he  was  afraid  it  would  get  away  from 
him. 

"  Lord,"  I  said,  sitting  up.  "  If  the  flood  came, 
it  would  still  find  you  plugging  on  some  improve- 
ment on  a  motor." 

'  That's  all  I'm  good  for,"  said  Pasc,  wetting  his 
pencil  point  with  his  lips,  and  looking  sideways  at 
the  envelope.  "  But  I  do  expect  I  can  make  that 
exhaust  a  hundred  per  cent,  better  than  it  is  now." 

"  Sure,"  I  said.     "Always!" 

And  he  went  on  working. 

"  Gripes,"  I  said,  rolling  my  head  in  my  hands. 


An  Option  125 

"  I'd  give  my  left   eye  to  know  what's   going  to 
hapoen  to  us  in  the  next  twenty-four  hours." 

"  I  wish  I  could  help  you  out,"  said  Pasc,  looking 
up.  "  I  wish  I  was  some  good  to  you  in  that  line. 
But  there's  no  use  of  pretending.  I  ain't." 

And  T  got  up  on  my  feet,  starting  walking. 

"  They're  a  natural  mystery  to  me,"  said  he  — 
"  banks  and  money.  They  always  were." 

"  They  are  to  most  of  us,"  I  said,  "  except  those 
damned  pale-faced  pirates  that  run  them." 

"  I  always  think,  somehow,"  he  went  along,  "  of 
a  lot  of  little  fine  wheels,  meshed  in  together,  run- 
ning in  oil.  Stiller'n  the  wheels  in  a  watch.  But 
they're  beyond  me!  "  he  said,  and  went  back  at  his 
envelope  again,  for  fear  he  was  forgetting  some- 
thing. 

"  I  guess  you're  right,"  I  said.  "  They've  got  a 
regular  system  —  a  regular  machine  —  for  extract- 
ing money  from  everybody  and  everything  they  come 
in  contact  with;  every  business  in  the  country." 

And  right  after  that  the  telephone  started  ringing. 

"  Yes?     Hello!  "  said  I,  grabbing  it. 

"  Mr.  Morgan?  "  said  the  voice  —  that  pale  pri- 
vate secretary  of  Billings. 

"Yes!" 

"  Mr.  Billings  wishes  me  to  say  he  will  see  you 
at  10 :3<D  —  if  you  are  at  liberty." 

"  I'll  be  there !"  said  I. 

'  Thank  you.  Then  he'll  look  for  you,"  he  said, 
politer  than  ever,  and  hung  up. 

"At  liberty!"  I  said,  starting  marching  around 
again.  "At  10:30!  Gripes!  He's  in  no  hurry 


126    The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

about  this  thing!  Old  man  Briscoe  will  have  us 
dead  and  buried  by  the  time  he  gets  around  to  us." 
And  I  grabbed  up  my  hat  then,  and  went  out,  and 
walked  the  streets,  until  it  was  time  for  him  to  see 
me. 

"  Good  morning,"  said  Proctor  Billings,  when  I 
finally  went  in,  getting  up  cold  and  polite  and  de- 
liberate as  ever,  with  a  fresh  flower  in  his  buttonhole, 
and  a  new  bouquet  in  the  vase  behind  him.  "  Take 
a  seat." 

I  said  how-d'do,  and  sat  down,  and  held  on  to 
myself,  waiting  for  him  to  start  in. 

"Will  you  smoke  a  cigarette?"  he  said  to  me, 
holding  out  the  gold  case  again. 

It  was  a  regular  part  of  the  ceremony,  apparently. 
He  always  opened  with  it  —  like  an  old-fashioned 
meal  with  prayer. 

"  Not  now,"  said  I.     "  Maybe  later." 

And  he  laid  the  case  on  the  desk  where  I  could 
reach  it. 

"  Well,"  said  I,  starting  off  to  talk  again,  in  spite 
of  myself;  "  have  you  looked  it  over?  " 

"  Yes." 

"What'd  you  think  of  it?" 

"  It's  a  very  interesting  statement,"  said  Proctor 
Billings. 

*  That's  what  I  thought  you'd  say,"  I  said,  en- 
couraged. "  So  now,"  I  said,  "  the  bank  can  go 
ahead,  can't  it,  and  straighten  us  out  in  this  Briscoe 
thing?" 

"  No,"  said  Proctor  Billings. 

"No!"   I   said.     "What   do   you   mean?"     I 


An  Option  127 

thought  you  just  said  we  had  a  wonderful  state- 
ment! " 

"  '  Interesting '  was  what  I  said,"  he  came  back, 
looking  at  me. 

"  Well,  interesting  then.  Isn't  it  good  enough 
for  you  to  get  us  out  of  this?  " 

"  The  bank,  you  mean  —  as  a  bank?  " 

"  Why,  yes,"  said  I. 

"No!" 

"Why  not?" 

"  It  wouldn't  be  justified  from  a  legitimate  bank- 
ing standpoint,"  he  said,  sending  out  his  cigarette 
smoke.  "  We're  speaking  now  about  anything  we 
might  say  about  you  to  Briscoe  and  Company?  "  he 
asked  me,  raising  his  eyebrows. 

"  Yes,"  said  I. 

He  shook  his  head.  "We  couldn't  do  it,"  he 
said,  knocking  off  his  cigarette  ashes,  "  under  the 
circumstances." 

I  sat  there  for  a  minute,  letting  it  soak  in.  And 
just  then  this  knock  came  at  the  door, —  that  secre- 
tary! 

"  Long  distance  wants  you." 

"The  same  call?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Give  them  the  same  answer.  Tell  them  I'll 
call  when  I  come  in." 

"  Yes,  sir." 

There  was  this  little  fine  rosebud  in  his  buttonhole. 
The  color  of  flesh.  I  kept  rny  eye  on  that,  waiting, 
while  they  were  talking. 

"  Briscoe  and  Company,"   Billings  said  to  me, 


128    The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

when  the  man  went  out.     "  They've  been  calling  all 
the  morning." 

"  Now  here,"  I  said,  stiffening  up,  when  I  heard 
it.  I  knew  it  was  a  matter  of  minutes  now !  '  You 
say  you  can't  do  anything!  " 

"  As  a  bank,"  he  said  again. 

"  Not  even  tell  them  about  that  protested  check 
—  how  it  happened." 

"  We  might  do  that,"  he  said.  "  Yes.  But  what 
good  would  that  be,  when  old  man  Briscoe  calls  me 
up  —  as  he  evidently  is  doing  —  and  asks  me  per- 
sonally what  I  think  about  it;  your  whole  situation, 
and  what  he'd  better  do  about  it?  " 

"  Well,"  I  said,  watching  him.  "  What  will  you 
say  to  him  —  now  you've  seen  that  statement?  " 

"  I  wouldn't  advise  him  one  way  or  the  other." 

"That's  all  you'd  do,  huh?  "  said  I,  getting  hot 
again. 

"What  else  could  I  do,  under  the  circumstances? 
What  would  you  do?  "  he  asked,  looking  over  at  me, 
cooler  than  ever  — "  if  you  were  in  my  place  in  this 
bank?" 

I  didn't  say  anything. 

'  You  wouldn't  be  here  now,"  he  said,  "  if  your 
condition  wasn't  critical?  " 

And  my  eyes  fell  down  to  his  rosebud  again. 
'  Well,"  I  said  finally,  "  what's  the  answer?  " 
'  You've  got  to  have  capital !  " 

"  All  right,"  I  said,  looking  him  in  the  eye;  "  then 
why  don't  you  loan  it  to  us?  " 

"  As  a  bank?  " 

"  Yes." 


An  Option  129 

"  Because  it's  not  a  bank's  business  to,  not  a  con- 
servative legitimate  bank's." 

"  I  thought  a  bank's  business  was  loaning 
money?  " 

"  Not  to  a  concern  without  capital,"  he  came  back. 
"  It's  the  business  of  somebody  else  to  furnish  the 
first  money  —  the  capital  that  takes  the  first  risk  of 
the  enterprise,  and  gets  the  profits.  That's  not  a 
bank's  business." 

And  the  talk  came  to  a  stop  again. 

"  I  don't  say,"  he  went  along,  "  you  couldn't  find 
some  banks  that  might  do  it  for  you  —  who  weren't 
so  old-fashioned  and  conservative  as  we  are.  You 
might  try  it,"  he  said,  knocking  his  cigarette  ashes 
off  again,  "  and  see." 

"  Try  it,  hell !  "  I  said  to  myself,  getting  red  in 
the  face.  With  old  man  Briscoe  waiting  now  on  the 
other  end  of  that  wire ! 

"  Let  me  ask  you  something,  for  a  minute,"  said 
I.  "  You  say  I  can't  get  capital  out  of  your  bank, 
or  any  other  bank,  legitimately.  Well,  where  am 
I  going  to  get  it?  " 

"  The  natural  way,"  he  said,  looking  over  at 
me,  "  would  be  to  get  some  individual  to  put  it 
in." 

"I  see,"  said  I,  watching  him.  "Well,  who? 
Do  you  know  anybody?  " 

"  I  can't  say  that  I  do." 

"  Would  you?  "  said  I,  keeping  my  eyes  right  on 
him.  "  Would  you  consider  it  yourself?  "  And  I 
froze  up,  waiting  for  him  to  answer. 

He  took  his  time  about  it. 


130    The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

"  I  might,  possibly,"  he  said  then,  looking  over. 
"  If  it  wasn't  for  one  thing." 

"  What's  that?  "  I  came  back  like  lightning. 

*'  I  have  no  intention  of  forcing  myself  into  the 
situation." 

"  Forcing  nothing !  "  I  said.     "  Would  you  con- 
sider it?" 
•  "  Under  certain  circumstances,  I  might." 

"What  are  they?" 

"  How  much  money  do  you  think  you  ought  to 
have,  right  now?  "  he  asked  me  then. 

"  Twenty  thousand  dollars." 

"  Twenty-five  might  be  better,  I  should  imagine," 
he  said.  '  You  should  have  enough;  it's  safer." 

"  All  right,"  I  said,  jumping  right  after  him. 
"Now  what  would  you  want?  How  would  you 
fix  it?" 

"  I  should  have  to  ask  you  ten  per  cent,  interest 
—  in  the  first  place,"  he  said. 

"  All  right,"  I  said,  and  groped  my  hand  out 
for  a  cigarette,  keeping  my  eyes  on  him  —  to  see 
what  was  coming  next. 

"  Under  the  circumstances,"  he  said,  his  face  as 
still  as  always. 

"That's  all  right,"  I  said  again.  "And  then 
what?" 

"  Control,"  he  said,  not  moving  a  muscle. 

"  Control !  "  I  said,  sitting  up  straighter.  I  saw 
it  coming  now.  I  saw  him  reaching  out  his  hand 
for  it  —  that  whole  thing  that  Pasc  Thomas  and  I 
had  bet  our  lives  on  —  and  taking  it  away  from  us. 

"Control?"    said    I,    standing    up.     "Control 


An  Option  131 

what?  Do  you  mean  to  say  you  want  us  to  hand 
over  the  stock  majority  of  our  company  for  twenty- 
five  thousand  dollars?  " 

"  Not  at  all,"  he  said.  "  I  wouldn't  consider 
doing  that  under  present  circumstances  for  a  minute. 
Sit  down.  Please  I  " 

And  I  sat. 

"  Understand,  please,"  he  said,  still  more  polite  — 
with  those  gray  eyes  of  his  on  me,  "  I'm  merely  stat- 
ing the  only  conditions  I  would  take  up  this  matter 
on.  At  your  request." 

'  Yes,"  I  managed  to  choke  out  of  myself. 

"  I  wouldn't  think  of  investing  money  in  your  con- 
cern now,  under  any  condition,"  he  told  me.  "  But 
I  do  see,  I  think,  a  plan  by  which  I  can  loan  you 
money,  with  reasonable  safety  —  for  this  kind  of 
private  venture;  and  hope  to  get  it  back.  But  to 
do  that  the  one  condition  is  that  I  have  absolute  con- 
trol of  the  stock,  until  my  debt  is  paid,  you  under- 
stand?" 

11  Yes,"  said  I. 

"  Is  it  agreeable  to  you?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Because  if  it  isn't,  we'll  drop  it  now." 

"It  is,"  I  told  him. 

"  When  I'm  paid,  of  course."  he  said,  "  the  con- 
trol goes  back." 

"  All  right,"  I  said,  watching.  "  And  what 
else?" 

"  I  want  to  be  perfectly  clear  about  this,"  he  an- 
swered me,  looking  down,  and  talking  very  carefully, 
"  before  we  go  any  further.  This  bank  has  con- 


132     The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

ducted  a  legitimate  banking  business  in  this  city 
for  a  great  many  years.  It  was  established  by  my 
father,  and  run  along  strictly  legitimate  banking 
lines  by  him.  And  up  to  date  neither  it  nor  any  of 
its  officers  have  ever  taken  any  of  its  customers  by 
the  throat,  and  taken  their  business  or  their  stock 
away  from  them.  And  this  arrangement  of  ours 
will  be  made  on  the  same  lines  —  if  at  all.  I'm  tell- 
ing you  now  the  conditions  I  will  come  in  on.  If 
they  are  not  agreeable  to  you,  you  need  not  consider 
them  at  all." 

"  I  understand,"  I  said;  "  and  it's  all  right.  Now 
go  ahead.  What  other  condition  is  there?  " 

"  I  believe,"  he  said,  "  if  your  company  pulls  out 
—  by  the  aid  of  my  money  —  I  should  have  an  op- 
tion to  buy  a  certain  amount  of  stock.  I  should  con- 
sider myself  entitled  to  it.  To  buy  it  —  at  a  price." 

"What  price?" 

11  Par,  I  should  say." 

"  All  right,"  said  I ;  "  let's  say  par  for  the  minute. 
But  how  much?  " 

"  A  third." 

"  A  third  of  the  stock  at  par,"  said  I,  thinking. 

"  Giving  me  the  same  amount  as  the  other  two 
stockholders,"  he  said.  "  That's  the  only  basis  I'll 
consider  it  on." 

»  Well  —  all  right,"  I  said  to  him.  "  How  long 
would  you  expect  the  arrangement  to  run?  " 

4  We  could  try  it  for  a  year,  first,"  he  told  me; 
"  and  see  how  we  stand  then." 

And  I  said  all  right. 

"  Just  one  thing  more,"  he  said.     "  We  should 


An  Option  133 

understand  now;  if  I  do  this  it  may  mean  a  general 
shake-up;  a  reorganization  from  the  bottom  up  —  if 
I  think  your  business  needs  it." 

"  How  about  the  running  of  the  shop?  "  I  asked 
him. 

"That's  your  work  —  the  detail.  Though,  of 
course,  I  should  always  have  the  final  authority  — 
the  right  to  act,  until  my  debt  is  paid." 

"All  right,"  I  said.  "Go  ahead.  Cut  down, 
reorganize.  I  guess  we  need  it,  anyhow.  Es- 
pecially financially.  We  never  did  claim  to  know 
that  end  of  the  business." 

'  Yes,  I  think  I  can  be  of  use  to  you  there,"  said 
Billings. 

"  I  know  you  can,"  said  I. 

"  And  now,"  he  said,  "  I'll  have  this  memorandum 
drawn  up  between  us,  to  send  to  you;  and  I'll  call  up 
Briscoe." 

I  got  up.  I  saw  it  was  my  cue  to.  And  he  got  up 
with  me,  very  polite  and  agreeable. 

"  I  believe,"  he  said,  "  I  can  be  of  use  to  you  in 
this  business  —  on  the  financial  end  anyway.  My 
father  used  to  say,"  he  went  on,  glancing  up  again  at 
old  man  Billings  over  his  head,  "  'a  new  business  is 
like  a  new  baby.  It's  apt  to  be  all  right  if  you  can 
get  it  through  its  second  summer.'  And  the  finances 
are  where  it's  most  apt  to  break  down.  There's 
where  I  can  be  of  some  use  to  you,  I  think.  I  ought 
to  be.  I  ought  to  know  something  about  it,"  he  said, 
looking  up  again  at  the  painting  of  the  old  man;  "  I 
had  one  of  the  best  teachers  in  the  world." 

And  he  held  out  his  long  hand  to  me. 


134    The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

"  I  believe  you  will,"  said  I,  looking  up  with  him 
at  that  old  lean  face  upon  the  wall.  '  You  cer- 
tainly ought  to !  "  I  thought  to  myself. 

"  I  believe  we  ought  to  make  a  strong  team,"  I 
said,  shaking  hands.  "  And  there's  plenty  in  it  for 
all  of  us  you'll  find." 

"  I  hope  so,"  said  he. 

I  left  him  standing  there,  under  his  picture  of  his 
old  man,  with  the  bouquet  of  flowers  back  of  him. 
And  walked  out  through  the  still  reception  room, 
with  the  sheep  pictures  on  the  wall  — -  feeling  better ! 

There  were  three  or  four  there,  waiting.  I  no- 
ticed one  man  that  I  knew. 

That  pale-faced  secretary  came  out  of  the  side 
door  after  I  did. 

"  Just  a  few  minutes,  now,"  he  said  to  this  man, 
who  got  up,  grabbing  hard  on  the  rim  of  his  hat, 
"  and  Mr.  Billings  will  be  able  to  see  you."  And 
he  smiled  that  lower  half  of  a  smile  again,  moving 
on. 

"  They  all  have  to  come  to  them,"  I  said  to  my- 
self. '  They  have  got  to  come  where  the  money  is 
—  sooner  or  later." 

There  was  something  in  my  hand,  I  noticed,  when 
I  got  out  on  the  street.  It  was  that  gold  mono- 
gramed  cigarette  I'd  taken  to  smoke,  all  ground  up 
to  nothing  where  I'd  been  squeezing  it. 


CHAPTER  XII 

A   MISTAKE 

"  He  held  us  up,  Pasc,"  I  said,  talking  it  over 
with  him  that  night;  "  and  declared  himself  in  on 
us.  That's  the  English  of  it." 

"  And  yet,"  said  Pasc,  "  if  he  gets  any  stock,  he's 
going  to  pay  real  money  for  it  —  when  he  might 
have  just  made  us  hand  it  over." 

"  I  can  see  why,  in  a  way,  too,"  I  came  back  at 
him.  "  He's  safer  putting  in  his  money  this  way  on 
a  loan,  where  he  can  get  it  out  again;  and  then  buy 
his  stock  after  he  sees  how  good  it  is.  For  nothing 
practically.  What's  par  the  way  we've  got  it  cap- 
italized now?  "  I  said. 

"  And  if  he  wants  to  be  crooked,  and  take  it  away 
from  us,"  I  said,  "  all  he  needs  to  do  is  to  wait 
until  he  gets  on  to  the  ropes  of  the  business,  and  then 
to  work  some  shenanegan  while  he  has  control  of  the 
thing  —  smash  it  and  take  it  over." 

"  Why  should  he  do  that,"  Pasc  wanted  to  know, 
"  when  he  had  us  in  the  first  place?  " 

"  Clear  enough,"  I  told  him.  "  He'd  know  the 
business  then.  And  at  the  same  time  he'd  have  the 
record  there  of  our  agreement,  to  show  how  fair  and 
aboveboard  and  proper  he  was  with  us." 

"Do  you  know  anything  to  prove  that?"  Pasc 
asked  me. 


136    The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

"  No.     I  just  think  so  on  general  principles." 

"  You're  too  suspicious,  Bill,"  said  Pasc. 

"  I  am  with  that  kind  of  cattle,"  said  I.  "  That's 
the  way  they  get  their  living.  They're  trained  to, 
all  the  time." 

"  That  ain't  the  way  they'll  act,  in  my  opinion," 
said  he.  "  That  ain't  what  I  think  he's  likely  to  do 
here." 

"  What  do  you  think?  "  I  asked. 

"  I  don't  think  so  bad  of  him  as  you  do,"  said 
Pasc — "from  what  I  hear.  I  think  he's  sharp. 
But  I  don't  think  he'd  cheat  you  outright.  I  think 
he'll  do  what  he  thinks  has  the  look  of  being  fair  and 
square  in  business." 

"  I  God,  .yes, —  in  business  I  "  I  said.  "  Business 
the  way  his  old  man  did  it." 

"  He  seems  to  think  a  good  deal  of  his  old  man, 
according  to  you,"  said  Pasc,  "  and  his  reputation." 

14  Well,  he's  the  only  one  that  does,"  I  said  — 
"  that  I  ever  heard  of.  That's  just  what  he'll  do. 
He'll  do  business  like  his  old  man.  He'll  get  you 
where  he  wants  you  first.  And  then  he'll  be  as  kind 
and  soft-hearted  as  an  adding  machine  —  an  adding 
machine,"  I  said,  choking  up,  "  crossed  with  a  rat- 
tlesnake." 

"  A  little  more  adding  machine  wouldn't  hurt 
us  in  that  business  very  much,"  said  Pasc,  "  in  my 
opinion.  If  he  starts  to  reorganize  it  the  way  he 
said  he  might,  it  won't  be  the  worst  thing  that  could 
happen  to  us." 

;'  There's  something  in  that,  Pasc,"  I  had  to  ad- 
mit. "  I  expect  we  could  save  a  dollar  that  way  now 


A  Mistake  137 

and  then  —  if  we  had  system.  And  that  wouldn't 
make  me  mad,  anyway!  And  anyhow,  about  all  we 
can  do  now  is  to  make  the  best  of  things.  He's  got 
us  any  way  we  turn." 

"  It'll  work  out  all  right,  I  think,"  said  Pasc. 

But  when  Billings  started  to  work  it  out  in  detail 
—  that  reoganizing  business, —  it  wasn't  so  agree- 
able to  either  Pasc  or  me  especially  when  it  came  to 
cutting  out  our  people  we  had  had  with  us  right 
along. 

That  little  bookkeeper  —  that  Myrtle  —  had  to 
go,  of  course.  She  was  done  for,  anyway,  by  that 
mistake.  She  never  came  back  to  the  office  after 
that  thing,  except  to  finish  cleaning  up  her  desk.  In 
her  place  Billings  put  an  experienced  bookkeeper,  a 
lean,  lantern-jawed  Scotchman  —  standing  all  day, 
deaf  and  dumb,  hanging  over  his  books,  working  and 
getting  out  statements  for  Billings  himself  to  work 
on. 

Pretty  soon  Billings  was  having  me  over  to  the 
bank  to  talk  about  them  —  and  cutting  out  a  man 
here  and  there.  I  put  up  a  fight  once  or  twice,  for 
one  or  two  of  them,  but  he  wouldn't  have  it. 

'That's  what  ruins  most  businesses  —  making  it 
a  personal  matter.  My  father  always  told  me,"  he 
said,  looking  up  again  at  his  picture:  'business 
isn't  friendship;  it's  arithmetic.  The  multiplication 
table  plays  no  favorites,'  he  used  to  say.  '  And  in 
the  long  run  a  business  doesn't,  either;  for  if  it  does, 
there  won't  be  any  business.'  ' 

So  finally  I  went  off  and  did  what  he  told  me. 

One  of  the  first  things  he  run  across,  of  course, 


138     The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

was  Chuck  —  that  boy  of  Tom's.  We  had  had  him 
on  the  payroll,  most  of  the  year,  riding  for  us  and 
training,  ever  since  he  won  that  first  race. 

"Who  is  this  man?"  Proctor  Billings  asked  me. 
"  Just  what  does  he  do?  " 

So  I  told  him.  "  He  isn't  riding  all  the  time,"  I 
said.  "  But  he  isn't  very  high-priced,  compara- 
tively; and  we've  always  figured  it  paid  us  well  in 
advertising." 

"  I  see,"  said  Billings.  "  Well,  I'd  like  to  look 
into  it  —  to  see  just  what  he  does  produce  for  us. 

"  I've  looked  it  up,"  he  said,  a  day  or  two  later, 
"  and  I'm  pretty  clear  that  it  doesn't  pay.  Racing 
has  had  its  day  as  advertising.  He  isn't  bringing 
his  money  back.  We'll  have  to  let  him  go." 

"  But  we  can't  let  him  go !  "  said  I. 

"Why  not?" 

11  Why,  he  made  us,  in  a  way,"  I  said.  And  then 
I  told  him  just  what  he'd  done  for  us. 

"  I  see,"  said  Billings,  thinking  it  over.  "  Well, 
I  tell  you  what  you  can  do.  You  can  let  another 
man  go,  and  give  him  a  place  inside  the  shop  —  if 
you  want  to.  I  should  think  it  might  be  better  for 
him,  than  this  irregular  traveling  around  the  coun- 
try, racing." 

And  he  put  it  up  to  me  to  do. 

I  never  felt  rottener  about  anything  in  my  life. 
It  didn't  mean  anything  to  Billings,  of  course.  We 
weren't  human  beings  to  him,  any  of  us;  nothing 
more  than  cogs  in  the  machinery  —  figures  in  a  col- 
umn. But  I  knew  myself  just  how  the  kid  would 
take  it. 


A  Mistake  139 

He  didn't  say  a  word,  when  I  was  telling  him 
about  it  —  just  sat  there,  chewing  gum  now  and  then, 
and  looking  up  with  his  head  down  a  little,  with  the 
whites  showing  under  those  hard  blue  eyes  of  his. 

I  told  him  I  was  sorry,  but  we'd  made  up  our 
minds  we'd  have  to  give  up  racing.  "  But  I  can  give 
you  just  about  as  much  money  there,  inside,"  I  said. 
"  Or  it  will  be  as  soon  as  you  get  started." 

He  didn't  say  anything  for  a  minute.  Just  sat 
there  with  those  sulky  eyes  on  me. 

"  I  know  how  you  feel  about  it,  probably,"  I  told 
him.  "  But  I'd  advise  you  to  take  it.  You  can't 
tell  when  this  racing  might  blow  up.  And  this  here 
would  be  a  steady  thing  for  you  —  a  life  job,  if  you 
wanted  it.  And  I'll  be  here  —  always  —  to  look 
out  for  you." 

"Ah-ha?"  he  said,  looking  at  me  with  a  little 
crooked  smile  on  his  lips.  "  Well,  I  guess  I  won't 
take  it.  Just  as  much  obliged." 

"  Why  not?  "  I  came  back  at  him.  That  look  on 
his  face  made  me  a  little  sore. 

"  How  about  you?  "  he  said.  ;'  Would  you  want 
to  go  back  in  the  shop?  " 

"  That  ain't  the  question,"  I  said,  getting  hotter. 
He  had  a  different  way  with  him  than  he  used  to  — 
older  and  sulkier  and  more  devil-may-care.  "  The 
question  is  do  you  want  this  job  I'm  offering  you? 
It's  a  good  job !  "  said  I,  watching  him. 

"  Maybe,"  he  said.  "  But  it's  not  my  job.  That 
ain't  what  I'm  cut  out  for;  I'm  a  rider,  not  a  me- 
chanic." 

"  All  right,"  I  said,  "  that's  your  lookout."     He 


140    The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

had  me  mad  now  —  the  way  he  said  it,  as  much  as 
what  he  said.  That  smart  Aleck,  indifferent  way 
kids  talk  nowadays,  when  they're  trying  to  show  how 
independent  they  are.  '  The  time  may  come,"  I 
said,  "  you  won't  turn  up  your  nose  at  a  good  job  as 
a  machinist." 

It  was  true  enough,  too,  what  I  told  him.  But  I 
felt  meaner  than  a  dog,  saying  it  —  and  mad  at  the 
same  time ! 

"  Anyway,"  I  said.  "  There  it  is.  I've  offered 
it  to  you  " 

"  Don  t  worry  about  me,"  he  said,  starting  chew- 
ing gum;  working  his  jaws  and  looking  up  at  me. 
"  I  can  place  myself  all  right.  The  Rajah  people 
have  been  after  me  for  six  months  —  for  more 
money  than  you  gave  me.  But  I  turned  them  down 
right  along. 

"  I  turned  them  down,"  he  said,  getting  up.  "  I 
thought  I'd  take  my  chances  and  stay  on  with  you 
here.  I  thought  maybe  you  wanted  me  to.  But 
this  is  different!  " 

He  turned  around,  and  went  out.  He  had 
changed  a  lot  in  a  few  months  —  grown  quite  a  little, 
and  got  a  lot  cockier,  and  surer  of  himself,  knocking 
around  the  country,  winning  races  that  way.  He 
was  a  pretty  wise  boy  by  this  time;  and  his  success 
at  riding  had  given  him  a  swelled  head.  I  didn't 
care  for  him  a  whole  lot.  But  that  didn't  let  me  out 
from  what  I  owed  him. 

"  It  couldn't  be  helped,  I  suppose,"  I  said  to  Pasc; 
1  but  I  never  felt  meaner  over  a  little  thing  in  my 
life  than  letting  him  go." 


A  Mistake  141 

"  And  of  course  you  couldn't  tell  the  boy  how 
it  was  —  how  it  was  forced  on  us,"  said  Pasc.  "  It 
certainly  was  a  mean  job  —  for  you,"  he  told  me. 

But  the  women  took  it  the  hardest  of  anybody. 
The  whole  thing  had  been  a  kind  of  family  affair 
with  us  before  that;  we  talked  about  the  people  at 
the  office  and  the  shop,  when  we  got  home,  always. 
The  place  those  days  was  always  what  Billings 
claimed  a  business  shouldn't  ever  be  —  run  on  a  kind 
of  personal  basis. 

"  Did-didn't  he  make  you?  "  said  Polly,  flaring  up 
when  she  heard  about  it.  Did-didn't  he  give  you 
your  first  big  start  —  what  he  did  in  that  race?  " 

"  I  never  denied  it,"  said  I. 

"  I  thought  —  I  thought  that  was  one  thing  you 
always  claimed,"  she  kept  after  me.  "I  —  I 
thought  you  always  made  your  boasts  —  that  what- 
ever anybody  did  for  you,  you  always  paid  them 
back;  especially  if  they  stood  by  you  and  did  you  a 
favor." 

"  We  offered  him  a  job,"  said  I. 

'Yes  —  yes.  What  kind  of  a  job!"  said  she. 
"He's  right.  He's  a  rider;  not  a  mechanic." 

"  He  could  have  changed." 

"Changed,"  she  said.  "So  could  you!  What 
harm  would  it  have  done  to  keep  him?  Tell  me. 
He'd  have  made  something  for  you  as  advertising, 
wouldn't  he?" 

"  Probably  he  would." 

"  How  —  how  much  would  you  have  lost  all  to- 
gether? " 

11 1  don't  know." 


142     The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

"  I  don't  either,"  said  Polly.  "  What  you  did, 
in  my  opinion ;  you  lost  money  by  —  by  letting  him  go 
—  besides  doing  a  mean  thing,  throwing  him  out." 

"  Well,  it's  done  anyhow,"  I  said.  "  We  won't 
talk  about  it  any  more." 

You  can't  explain  a  thing  like  that  to  a  woman, 
anyhow.  And  I  wasn't  going  to  bring  in  Billings 
too  strong,  and  throw  it  all  off  on  him  —  even  in  my 
own  family.  I  don't  believe  in  that  kind  of  business ; 
especially  when  he  was  probably  right  about  the 
thing  anyway. 

But  Zetta,  Pasc's  wife,  was  the  worst  when  she 
heard  about  it.  She  wouldn't  speak  to  me  for  a 
week  or  two,  until  Pasc  convinced  her  I  wasn't  to 
blame  for  it  personally.  And  then  she  had  the  boy 
around  to  her  house  for  dinner,  just  to  show  him 
what  she  thought  about  it.  She  was  an  Indian  that 
way.  She  did  exactly  what  she  thought  she  was  en- 
titled to,  and  the  devil  himself  couldn't  stop  her, 
when  she  once  got  started. 

ic  Why  wouldn't  I  ?  "  she  said  to  me,  when  I 
brought  it  up.  "  He's  just  as  good  as  we  are,  as  far 
as  I  know.  Or  Proctor  Billings,  for  that  matter!  " 
she  said,  getting  red.  "  And  a  little  better  in  this 
thing,  I  should  say,  if  anybody  asked  me.  The  only 
thing  to  be  said  for  us,  we're  in  line  for  a  little  more 
money  some  day.  That's  the  only  difference. 
Why  shouldn't  I  have  him  up  to  dinner,  if  I  want 
to?" 

'  You  should  —  probably,"  I  said,  dropping  it  — 
feeling  raw  and  uncomfortable  about  the  whole  thing 
still. 


A  Mistake  143 


"  I  stand  by  my  friends,"  she  said. 

"  I  do  myself,  sometimes !  "  I  answered,  getting 
sore. 

"  But  that's  the  way  business  goes,  I  expect,"  I 
said  to  Pasc,  when  we  were  alone,  "  if  you're  going 
to  run  it  and  make  money.  You  can't  run  it  on 
personal  lines,  the  way  the  women  would  like  to. 
You've  got  to  operate  your  business  according  to  the 
laws  of  arithmetic  —  as  old  Billings  said,  or  you 
won't  have  any  to  run." 

"  Up  to  a  certain  point!  "  said  Pasc. 

"  And  if  a  man  don't  earn  his  money,  all  there  is, 
he's  got  to  go." 

"  Yes.  That's  the  idea,"  said  Pasc,  in  a  kind  of 
a  dry  way.  '  That's  the  rule  that'll  work  out  with 
all  of  us  before  we're  done  with  it,  probably." 
*  "  Let  it,"  I  said.  "  I'm  not  afraid  of  it.  And 
anyhow,"  I  said,  "  you've  got  to  admit  the  business 
is  working  out  well,  under  Billings,  so  far  as  making 
money  goes.  It's  getting  down  into  shape  now; 
even  you  and  I  can  see  that." 

"  From  that  standpoint  it's  all  right,  I  be- 
lieve, from  the  standpoint  of  making  money,"  said 
Pasc. 

'  Well,  that  don't  hurt  your  feelings  any,  does 
it?  "  said  I.  "  It  don't  mine.  I'm  beginning  to  be- 
lieve that  in  some  ways  getting  Billings  in  here  was 
the  best  thing  that  ever  happened  to  the  business. 
You  and  I  could  never  have  organized  it  in  the 
world." 

"  No,  we  couldn't,  I  guess,"  said  Pasc,  running  his 
hand  over  his  forehead.  He  was  getting  kind  of 


144     The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

anxious  and  bony  looking  lately.  I'd  noticed  it  be- 
fore. We  were  speeding  up  pretty  fast  in  the 
shop. 

Billings  was  certainly  getting  it  organized  now; 
that  was  one  sure  thing.  That  deaf-and-dumb 
Scotchman  he  had  on  the  books  was  a  wonder.  "  He 
sleeps  with  them,"  I  said.  "  And  eats  figures  for 
lunch,  with  a  small  glass  of  water  on  the  side." 

There  wasn't  a  word  out  of  him  scarcely.  He 
was  working  with  his  eyes  down,  all  day.  And  by 
this  time  —  after  three  months  or  so  —  Billings  had 
got  in  his  brother  —  a  machinist  —  to  work  in  with 
him  on  the  shop  management,  as  Pasc's  assistant. 
The  two  of  them  —  those  brothers  —  were  always 
around,  working,  saying  nothing. 

4  You  couldn't  ask  for  a  better  man,"  said  Pasc, 
about  the  one  helping  him.  "  He's  always  picking 
up  something  I've  forgotten.  Or  catching  some  mis- 
take, or  stopping  some  waste.  He  earns  his  money, 
that's  certain.  He's  great  on  system,  just  where  I'm 
weak." 

I  began  to  feel  around  in  my  mind  then,  wonder- 
ing just  why  it  was  Billings  thought  he'd  better  put 
him  in  there  in  the  shop. 

Pasc  had  the  shop  end,  of  course.  And  I  had 
the  general  management,  especially  of  sales  —  going 
out  and  meeting  the  trade  and  selling  the  goods. 
That  was  my  line  naturally.  When  it  came  to  sell- 
ing machines  and  handling  the  trade,  I  was  there.  I 
didn't  take  a  back  seat  for  anybody.  I  liked  it.  I 
could  eat  it  up. 

But  I  could  sec,  every  now  and  then,  that  Pasc's 


A  Mistake  145 


end  was  worrying  him  —  especially  with  the  speed 
we  were  getting  on  now,  since  Billings  came  in. 

'  We  thought  we  were  going  pretty  fast  before," 
he  said,  sitting  there  at  night,  drawing  his  hand  over 
his  forehead.  "  But  it  was  nothing  like  this." 

He  looked  thinner  than  a  rail;  and  those  pale  eyes 
further  down  in  back  of  his  cheek  bones  than  ever. 

"  How  do  you  stand  it?  "  he  said  to  me. 

"  Fine,"  I  said.  "  I  just  bite  into  it.  I  feel  like 
a  fighting  cock  every  day  —  except  now  and  then  my 
stomach  goes  back  on  me  out  on  the  road." 

"  I  don't  know  just  what's  struck  me,"  he  said. 

"What's  that?"  I  asked  him. 

"  I  get  these  headaches  all  the  time." 

"  Your  digestion,  probably,"  I  said.  "  That's  the 
matter  with  me,  nine  times  out  of  ten;  when  I've  got 
one,  my  stomach's  out  of  whack." 

"  Well,  maybe  you're  right,"  said  Pasc.  "  But 
half  of  the  time  I  feel  like  Tunket.  I  worry  about 
my  work  a  good  deal,"  he  said — "  the  responsibil- 
ity of  it.  I  don't  sleep  so  terribly  well  nights  — 
especially  when  a  new  idea  strikes  me.  The  way  it 
is  then,  I  get  my  work  here  driving  me  around  all 
day;  and  a  carburetor  or  a  cam  shaft  chasing  me 
all  night.  Between  the  two,  they're  running  me 
thin." 

"  Cut  out  the  nights,"  said  I. 

"  I  guess  I'll  have  to  —  or  the  days,  one  or  the 
other,"  said  Pasc. 

But  that  Scotchman,  that  McAdam,  who  had 
come  in  as  his  assistant,  didn't  worry  much,  or  have 
any  reason  to.  Everything  went  like  machinery 


146    The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

with  him;  as  if  he  was  just  one  wheel  in  the  shop. 
I  used  to  watch  him  around  there,  coming  up  always 
in  the  next  place  he  was  wanted,  as  if  a  cam  operated 
him. 

"  Why  don't  you  throw  more  of  the  detail  off  on 
to  him  ?  "  I  said  to  Pasc. 

But  he  didn't  want  to  do  that.  He  was  too  con- 
scientious. If  he  only  had,  things  might  have  turned 
differently,  perhaps.  But  yet,  I  don't  know  either. 
The  pace  was  getting  pretty  fast  for  him. 

The  first  I  knew  that  anything  out  of  the  way  had 
happened  was  one  night,  when  I  was  getting  ready 
to  go ;  and  Pasc  came  in  and  sat  down  waiting,  until 
after  that  bookkeeping  McAdam  had  gone  out 
finally. 

He  sat  there,  staring  off  across  the  room.  He 
hadn't  washed  up,  even. 

1  What  ails  you,  Pasc?  "  I  said,  waking  up  to  it 
after  awhile.  "  Why  don't  you  change  and  wash  up 
and  go  home?  What's  the  new  wrinkle  you've  got 
on  your  mind  now?  " 

And  then  he  gave  a  kind  of  a  groan. 

;<  What's  the  matter,  anyhow?"  I  asked  him. 
"Another  headache?" 

"  No." 

"What  is  it?"  I  said.  I  saw  then  there  was 
something  serious  going  on. 

"By  misery!"  he  said.  "I've  made  an  awful 
bull." 

"What?" 

"  I  spoiled  about  three  thousand  dollars'  worth  of 
stuff,  I  should  say." 


A  Mistake  147 

"  Gripes,  Pasc,"  I  said,  sitting  up  and  taking  no- 
tice. "  How  did  you  come  to  do  that?  " 

"  Counting  labor,"  he  said. 

And  then  he  explained  to  me.  It  was  that  last 
improvement  in  the  engine,  he  told  me. 

"  That  last  one  that  was  going  to  improve  the 
intake  one  hundred  percent?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Didn't  it?  "  I  said.  "  Didn't  it  work  out  when 
you  got  it  in  the  engine?  Have  you  got  to  take  it 
all  out  again?  " 

"  The  idea  was  all  right,"  he  said.  "  I've  gone 
over  it  since,  with  the  one  I  put  up  myself,  but  the 
trouble  is,  they  put  it  in  all  wrong.  They  spoiled  it 
making  it." 

"  How  did  that  happen  ?  "  said  I,  staring  at  him. 

"  I  don't  know,  exactly,"  said  Pasc.  "  I  suppose 
it  was  because  I  wasn't  around  all  the  time  to  super- 
intend them.  But  it  never  occurred  to  me,"  he  said 
to  me,  talking  lower,  "  it  never  entered  my  head  that 
any  man  who  pretended  to  be  a  machinist  could  make 
such  a  condemned,  ridiculous  mistake  as  those  two 
men  did." 

"  What  did  you  do  —  fire  'em,  on  the  spot?  " 

"  No,"  he  said.  "  McAdam  wanted  to,  but  I 
wouldn't  have  it.  I  told  him  it  was  on  me.  And  it 
was,  too.  It  wouldn't  have  happened  if  I'd  stayed 
there,  where  I'd  ought  to  have  been,  instead  of 
mooning  around  on  something  else." 

"  Where  were  you  —  anyhow?  " 

"  Off  somewhere,  I  expect  —  working  out  that 
next  idea  that  struck  me  at  my  bench." 


148     The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

"God,  Pasc,"  I  said.  "How  could  you  do  it! 
A  thing  like  that  —  just  now,  especially  !  " 

"  It'll  be  over,  rather  than  under  three  thousand, 
I  expect,"  he  said. 

And  he  got  up  slowly,  and  began  to  take  off  his 
overalls  and  get  some  of  the  smudge  off  of  his  face. 
And  finally  he  started  on  home,  going  out  with  his 
head  down. 

When  I  was  following  after  him,  a  little  later,  I 
ran  across  McAdam,  that  assistant  of  his,  going 
later  than  I  was  even;  forever  there,  peering  around 
the  corner  —  snooping  around,  saying  nothing. 

"  I  guess  I'll  go  tomorrow  and  tell  Billings  about 
this  thing  myself,"  I  made  up  my  mind.  "  I  guess 
that  will  be  safer.  He'd  get  it  from  one  of  those 
two  spies  of  his,  anyhow." 

He  took  it  entirely  different  from  what  I  expected 
—  just  raised  his  eyebrows,  and  said  it  was  too  bad. 
And  then  dropped  it. 

"  After  all,"  I  said  to  myself,  going  away,  "  what 
could  he  say  anyhow  —  the  way  things  are  going 
with  us  now?  If  we  keep  showing  profits  the  way 
we  are?  " 

And  yet  that  didn't  convince  me  really.  I  never 
could  feel  easy  and  secure  with  him. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

A    SHARP    CORNER 

I  used  to  sit  around  thinking  things  over  as  we 
came  towards  the  end  of  the  year  that  that  first 
agreement  with  Proctor  Billings  had  to  run. 

"  What's  the  matter  with  you?  "  Pasc  asked  me, 
catching  me  sitting  there,  figuring  in  the  office. 

"Nothing.     Why?" 

'  You're  sitting  around,  brooding  like  a  sick  man, 
or  an  inventor  trying  to  hatch  out  a  new  idea  out  of 
his  mind,"  said  Pasc,  smiling  that  little  old  dry  smile 
of  his. 

"  I'm  worried,  if  you  want  to  know,"  I  said. 
"  About  what'll  happen  when  that  agreement  runs 
out." 

"  Worried !  "  said  Pasc.  "  I  thought  we  were 
making  a  lot  of  money." 

"  We  are,"  I  told  him.  "  We're  going  to  show 
profits  of  sixty  thousand  dollars  this  year." 

"  Billings  ought  to  be  satisfied  with  that." 

"  That's  what  I'm  afraid  of,"  I  said.  "  Too  well 
satisfied!  " 

"  What  do  you  mean?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  I  said,  "  exactly.  But  there's 
something  up.  I  don't  know  just  what  it  is.  But 
it's  something!  " 

"  What  makes  you  think  so?  "  said  Pasc. 


150    The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

"  Oh,  a  number  of  things,"  I  said.  "  The  way 
Billings  acts  for  one  thing  —  so  very  polite,  and  re- 
served, and  particular !  " 

"  Probably  you  just  imagined  it,"  said  Pasc. 

"  No,  I  didn't,"  I  told  him.  "  And  those  Mc- 
Adams  —  those  still  sneaks  of  his,  always  around, 
always  busy!  What  are  they  in  here  for,  anyway? 
We  got  along  without  them  before.  You  can't  move 
around  in  your  own  office,  and  pull  out  a  paper  from 
the  drawer,  but  you  know  one  of  them  has  his  eyes 
on  you.  Between  Billings  and  them,  it  seems  some- 
times as  if  we  were  surrounded  by  these  still-faced 
things,  day  and  night." 

"  They're  good  men,  at  that,"  said  Pasc. 

"  I  hate  them,"  I  said.  "  They  ain't  half  so  hu- 
man as  a  spider." 

'  You  distrust  them  too  much,"  said  Pasc,  "  nat- 
urally. You're  too  different  from  them.  They're 
good  people  for  the  work  —  those  Scotchmen." 

'  Yes  —  for  that  kind  of  work,"  I  said,  "  I  guess. 
But  I  tell  you  what  I  think  they're  here  for,"  I  told 
him,  "  if  you  want  to  know.  I  have  for  some  time. 
I  think  they're  in  here  to  learn  the  business  all  around 
—  so  if  Proctor  Billings  wanted  to,  any  time,  he 
get  along  without  us !  " 

"  He  wouldn't  do  that,"  said  Pasc. 

"Why  wouldn't  he?"  I  asked  him.  "That's 
what  I  meant  just  now,  when  I  said  we  were  making 
too  much  money;  it's  too  much  temptation  for  him !  " 

"  I  know,"  said  Pasc.  "  But  if  we  are  making 
so  much,  how  could  he  get  the  business  away,  if  he 
wanted  to?  " 


A  Sharp  Corner  151 

"  The  same  answer  as  always  from  the  start. 
Capital.  Money.  For  every  dollar  we  show  in 
profits,  three  and  four  and  five  have  to  go  in  there 
in  capital.  We  showed  sixty  thousand  dollars'  profit 
this  last  year,  and  we're  in  debt  one  hundred  and 
seventy-five  thousand  dollars  more  than  when  it 
started!  " 

"  Seven  times  what  you  expected  you'd  need!  " 

'  Yes,"  I  said  — "  that  Billings  is  responsible  for. 
The  way  he's  fixed  it!  We  haven't  moved  an  inch, 
when  you  come  down  to  it.  He's  got  us  surer  than 
he  ever  had.  We  never  in  the  world  could  get  the 
money  this  business  would  have  to  get,  if  he  shut 
down  on  us  now." 

"  But  he  won't,"  said  Pasc.  "  He  won't  do  that 
sort  of  thing." 

11 1  don't  know,"  I  said.  "  I'm  worried. 
There's  something  coming  up.  He's  going  to  spring 
something  on  us,  I  know.  Just  the  way  he  acts. 
And  if  he  wanted  to,  he  could  dump  us  out  of  this 
—  both  of  us  —  as  easy  as  emptying  a  basket." 

I  could  see  just  the  minute  I  went  in  that  still  back 
office  of  the  bank  that  morning  when  the  agreement 
was  coming  up,  that  I  was  right  —  that  there  was 
something  coming  —  just  from  that  calm  deliberate 
way  Billings  got  up  to  meet  me  with. 

He  sat  down  by  the  cut  flowers  from  his  green- 
house under  the  old  man's  picture,  after  we  shook 
hands.  He  was  great  on  shaking  hands.  All  those 
bank  men  are.  Then  he  sat,  taking  his  time,  look- 
ing over  the  statement  of  our  year,  waiting  for  me 
to  start  up  —  the  old  game. 


152    The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

"  Well,"  I  said,  "  coming  to  it  finally,  "  it's  not  so 
darned  bad,  is  it?  Sixty-one  thousand  dollars  for 
the  year." 

"  No,  it  isn't,"  he  said,  putting  up  his  eye- 
brows, and  turning  over  the  pages  with  those  white 
fingers,  pretending  to  be  reading  one  part  and  an- 
other. 

"  No,"  he  said,  laying  it  down.  "  It's  pretty 
good." 

"  You  bet  it  is,"  I  said. 

"  In  a  way — " 

"In  a  way!"  said  I.  "It's  six  per  cent,  of  a 
million  dollars."  I'd  been  saying  that  to  Pasc, 
when  we  were  first  feeling  good  over  it  —  kind  of 
half  in  earnest  and  half  a  joke. 

"  If  you  want  to  look  at  it  that  way,"  he  answered 
me.  And  stopped.  And  I  waited  for  him,  this 
time.  "  But  I  should  say  that  was  just  a  little  pre- 
mature !  " 

11  Premature?  "  I  said  after  him. 
'  To  talk  of  it  as  interest  on  fixed  capital." 

"  What  would  you  call  it  then?  " 

"  A  first  year's  earnings,  wouldn't  you?  A  good 
year.  If  principal  grew  so  easily  as  that,  we'd  all 
be  millionaires  around  here,  out  of  the  bicycle  busi- 
ness !  " 

And  he  smiled  that  thin  smile  of  his. 

"  Maybe  we  would,"  I  said. 
'  No,"  he  went  on,  pulling  out  another  cigarette 
for  himself  and  pounding  the  end  of  it  on  the  desk. 
;l  That's  one  trouble  here." 

"What?" 


A  Sharp  Corner  153 

"  The  bicycle  business.  If  it  wasn't  for  that,  I 
wouldn't  be  so  afraid  of  this." 

"  Afraid!  "  I  said  after  him. 

"  Yes  —  of  the  capital  it's  eating  up." 

His  face  was  still  as  a  wall.  I  moved  my  chair. 
I  saw  he  was  getting  around  to  it  —  getting  started 
on  this  first  move. 

"  A  hundred  and  seventy-five  thousand  dollars," 
he  said,  reading  it  off  the  statement.  "  Quite  a  little 
money  to  be  responsible  for,  personally  —  if  any- 
thing should  happen." 

"  Nothing's  going  to  happen,"  I  said. 

"How  do  you  know?"  he  asked  me.  "Any 
more  than  in  the  bicycle  business.  Yes,"  he  said 
again,  when  I  didn't  say  anything.  "  That's  it,  I'm 
afraid/  " 

'  That's  your  way  of  putting  it,"  I  said,  coming 
back  at  him. 

"  It's  my  money,"  he  said.  "  Or  I'm  responsible 
for  it."  And  we  stopped  there  —  waiting. 

I  looked  up  for  a  second,  and  saw  the  face  of  the 
old  man,  in  the  oil  painting  over  me  —  looking  down 
on  the  same  old  still-faced  game  again,  he'd  played 
there  himself  when  he  was  alive. 

"  Look  here,"  I  said  to  Billings.  "  You  haven't 
got  anything  to  scare  you  yet  —  not  much.  With 
our  earnings  for  the  year  —  put  it  the  worst  way 
you  want  to." 

"  It  leaves  me,"  he  said,  "  with  the  responsibility 
of  one  hundred  and  seventy-five  thousand  dollars,  in- 
stead of  twenty-five.  Seven  times  what  I  was  led 
to  expect." 


154    The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

That  was  one  for  me  —  of  course. 

"  Seven  times  what  we  first  estimated,"  he  re- 
peated again.  He  said  "we";  what  he  meant,  of 
course,  was  "  you." 

"  Some  of  it,"  I  came  back,  "  was  transferred 
from  the  supply  people." 

"  Yes,  but  I'm  responsible,  just  the  same." 

I  stopped  —  waiting  for  his  next  move.  It  came 
right  away. 

"  But  that  isn't  the  worst,  of  course.  That  isn't 
what  I'm  afraid  of  most." 

"  What  is?"  said  I,  watching  him  with  all  my 
eyes. 

"  The  future,"  he  said.  "  Do  you  know  what 
you'll  need  next  year?  "  he  asked  me,  putting  those 
hard  eyes  of  his  on  mine  for  a  second. 

"  Not  exactly,  no." 

"  At  least  two  hundred  thousand  dollars 
more  I  " 

I  didn't  say  anything.  I  knew  it  was  probably 
true. 

I  You  should  have  a  factory,  for  one  thing.     You 
need  more  room.     And  you  could  save,  probably, 
ten  dollars  a  machine,  if  you  had  a  real  factory  — 
properly  arranged." 

II  Easy,"  I  told  him. 

'Where  is  it  all  coming  from?"  he  asked  me. 
"  If  the  company  was  old  enough;  if  it  had  a  record 
of  earnings  to  show,  you  could  capitalize  it  —  take 
it  to  New  York,  and  dispose  of  some  stock.  That's 
no  use  now.  We'll  have  to  place  its  paper  —  if  I 
can  manage  it,  as  I  have  in  the  past." 


A  Sharp  Corner  155 

"  Look  here,"  I  said,  getting  restless  finally. 
"What's  all  this  leading  to?" 

"  I  suppose,"  he  said,  "  to  taking  up  the  renewal 
of  our  agreement." 

"  All  right,"  I  said,  "  go  ahead." 

I  wasn't  going  to  let  him  drag  the  thing  along  this 
way  forever. 

"  If  you  want  to  do  it,"  said  he,  looking  at  me, 
extra  polite. 

"  Certainly  I  want  to,"  said  I.     "  Don't  you?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  he  said. 

"  Don't  know !  "  said  I,  turning  chilly. 

"  No,"  he  said,  and  his  voice  kept  getting  harder 
and  his  face  more  stiff.  "  I  don't.  I  'don't  know 
that  I  do  want  to,  as  a  matter  of  fact  —  except  under 
certain  pretty  clearly  defined  circumstances." 

"What  are  they?"  said  I. 

We  both  sat  —  going  carefully  —  watching  each 
other  in  that  still  room;  the  old  man's  picture  over 
us,  and  the  smell  of  the  hothouse  roses  in  the  vase, 
filling  up  the  place  like  a  funeral. 

He  took  his  time  about  telling  me  what  he  wanted. 

"  Go  ahead,"  I  said.  "  What  are  the  condi- 
tions? What  would  you  want?"  I  was  getting 
nervous. 

"  In  the  first  place,"  he  said,  "  I  should  expect  to 
retain  my  option  —  to  buy  in  my  interest  in  the  com- 
pany at  the  price  we  first  agreed  upon. 

"  That's  all  right,"  I  said,  sitting  up  and  watching 
every  move  he  was  making.  It  made  you  laugh,  on 
the  side,  to  think  what  the  cost  of  the  stock  was 
then  —  compared  to  what  it  was  worth  now.  Prac- 


156     The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

tically  nothing!  But  that  was  done,  anyhow.  "  Go 
ahead,"  said  I. 

"  And  I  should  want  a  voting  control  of  the  stock, 
as  I  have  now,  until  the  obligations  to  me  were  paid 
up." 

"  Go  ahead,"  said  I.  That  was  clear  enough. 
It  didn't  change  the  situation  from  what  it  had  been 
—  either  of  those  things.  "  Go  ahead."  I  saw 
what  he  was  really  after  was  still  coming. 

"  That  we  can  take  for  granted,"  he  said,  "  I  sup- 
pose." And  I  nodded  to  him. 

"  But  the  main  thing  —  for  me,"  he  said,  and 
drew  out  this  paper  from  his  pocket — "  is  all  here 
in  a  new  plan  for  capitalization  I've  drawn  up  —  to 
show  you." 

"What  is  it?"  I  said,  sitting  up  and  taking  no- 
tice. This  was  something  new  to  me.  We  were 
capitalized,  of  course ;  like  everybody  else  is.  But  I 
had  only  the  haziest  kind  of  the  general  idea  of  this 
stock  game.  I  sat  up;  I  was  afraid  of  it  —  darned 
shy,  the  minute  he  started  opening  it  up. 

"  I'll  show  you  the  whole  thing  in  detail,"  he  said, 
"  if  you  like." 

He  had  it  all  worked  out,  of  course,  as  I  knew  he 
had.  But  the  first  thing  he  said  nearly  knocked  me 
over. 

"  I  should  capitalize  it,"  he  said,  "  at  a  million 
and  a  half  dollars." 

"  A  million  and  a  half,"  I  said.  "  What  do  you 
mean?  Didn't  you  say  it  was  no  use  talking  in  such 
figures  as  a  million  dollars !  " 

"What  difference  does  it  make?"  he  said,  look- 


A  Sharp  Corner  157 

ing  at  me,  "what  figure  you  capitalize  it  for?  If 
it  earns  it  —  all  right.  It's  all  capitalized.  If  it 
doesn't  earn  it,  who's  hurt  —  but  just  three  stock- 
holders?" 

"  Nobody,  I  suppose,"  I  said. 

But  just  the  same  it  made  an  impression  on  me. 
He  passed  it  off.  But  it  looked  to  me  to  be  at  least 
a  sign  of  what  he  thought  there  might  be  in  it. 

44  A  million  and  a  half,"  he  went  along,  "  for  con- 
venience. I  put  it  there  in  the  first  place,  because 
of  there  being  three  stockholders." 

"  Go  ahead,"  said  I,  watching  this  new  game, 
hard. 

"  But  all  that  million  and  a  half,"  he  told  me  then, 
44  would  not  be  in  one  class  of  stock." 

"How  would  it  be?"  I  asked  him,  eyeing  that 
face  of  his. 

44  Half  a  million  preferred;  and  a  million  com- 
mon." 

44  How's  that?" 

44  A  million  common,  with  voting  power,"  he  said. 

4  Voting  power !  "  I  said  over  to  myself.  44  Now 
we're  getting  to  it!  " 

44  Controlled  equally  between  you  and  me." 

44  And  the  other  half  million  preferred?  " 

44  For  Mr.  Thomas,"  he  said. 

44  What's  this?  "  said  I,  jumping  at  it. 

4  That's  one  absolute  condition,"  he  said,  turning 
those  still  eyes  of  his  on  me,  44  of  my  going  on." 

"What?" 

44  If  I  go  on  with  you  —  with  more  money,  and  a 
new  factory  —  it  will  be  under  a  change  of  manage- 


158    The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

merit  of  the  plant.  Mr.  Thomas  will  have  to  give 
up  his  part  in  the  concern;  and  his  voice  in  the  stock 
control." 

He  didn't  move  a  muscle  as  he  said  it. 

"What  are  you  talking  about?"  I  said  to  him. 
"  Do  you  know?  " 

I  had  just  as  much  expected  a  club  across  the  face. 

"  1  know  very  well,"  he  said,  cutting  out  his  words 
clear  and  sharp.  "  I'm  through  with  any  concern 
that  Mr.  Thomas  is  in  control  of  turning  out  the 
product.  He'll  have  to  go." 

"  Let  him  go  1  "  I  said,  getting  my  breath  back. 
"  Put  Pasc  Thomas  out  of  the  Hoodlum !  What 
are  you  —  crazy?  Why,  it's  his  thing!  He  made 
it!" 

'  Yes,  and  he'll  ruin  it,  if  he'll  ever  have  a  chance 
of  manufacturing  it  on  a  large  scale,  after  the  way 
he's  been  doing.  Besides,"  said  Billings,  "  I 
wouldn't  go  into  any  company,  permanently,  without 
expecting  to  have  at  least  half  of  the  stock  any- 
way." 

I  almost  choked  to  death  while  he  was  saying  it. 

"  Now  wait,"  he  said,  holding  out  his  hand,  when 
he  saw  me  opening  up  my  mouth  again.  "  Before 
you  make  any  comments  on  my  plan,  it'll  be  just  as 
well  to  let  me  explain  it,  so  you'll  know  what  it  is. 
That  is,"  he  said,  staring  at  me  again  — "  if  you 
want  me  to  go  on  with  you." 

I  sat  and  listened  as  he  told  me  to.  I  began  now 
to  get  an  idea  of  the  thing. 

'  To  start  with,"  he  went  on,  when  I  sat  back  and 
waited,  "  I  have  no  desire  on  earth  to  underestimate 


A  Sharp  Corner  159 

Mr.  Thomas,  or  do  him  the  slightest  injustice.  He 
is  an  excellent  man  —  in  his  place." 

It  made  me  wriggle  in  my  chair  to  hear  him,  pass- 
ing judgment  on  Pasc  Thomas  running  a  machine 
shop !  I  wanted  to  get  up  and  eat  him  raw.  But  I 
didn't.  I  sat  and  took  it  —  getting  chillier  every 
minute,  understanding  his  scheme. 

"  As  an  inventor,"  he  said,  "  he  is  a  very  able 
man.  On  the  other  hand,  he's  just  the  type  of  man 
who  should  never  have  charge  of  a  manufacturing 
plant  —  or  a  voice  in  its  management." 

"  What  makes  you  say  that?  "  I  asked  him,  keep- 
ing my  voice  down.  "  That  mistake  he  made?  " 

"  That,  and  a  hundred  other  things.  He's  en- 
tirely unfitted  for  it.  He's  worse  than  that.  He's 
dangerous.  At  the  same  time,"  he  went  along,  "  he 
invented  the  machine  —  he  made  the  company  pos- 
sible, as  you  say.  And  he  should  certainly  have  his 
share  of  the  profits  from  it.  He  can  be  of  great 
use,  too,  in  the  future." 

I  sat  glaring  at  him,  holding  in. 

"  So  I  have  worked  out  this  plan  for  him  —  to 
protect  his  rights,"  he  said.  "  I'm  giving  him  the 
first  chance  on  earnings.  My  plan  will  give  him 
three  hundred  thousand  dollars  in  seven  per  cent, 
preferred  stock." 

"  Three  hundred  thousand  dollars,"  I  said,  "  I 
thought  you  said  five." 

"  There  would  be  two  hundred  thousand  dollars 
left  in  the  treasury,  and  two  hundred  thousand  dol- 
lars common,"  he  said,  "  to  issue  in  emergency. 
And  three  hundred  thousand  dollars  would  give  Mr. 


160    The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

Thomas  twenty-one  thousand  dollars  a  year,  before 
we  declared  ourselves  any  dividends  on  our  stock. 

"  For  the  present,"  he  went  on,  "  it  would  not  be 
likely  that  we  would  pay  dividends  even  on  pre- 
ferred stock.  And  in  that  period,  we  could  allow 
Mr.  Thomas  a  salary,  a  good  living  salary,  say 
seventy-five  hundred  dollars  a  year,  to  be  given  up, 
when  we  decided  to  pay  preferred  dividends.  And 
in  the  meantime,  he  could  come  and  go  as  he  wanted 
—  invent  what  he  pleased,  and  let  us  have  his  in- 
ventions. 

"  In  this  way,"  he  said,  "  you  and  I  would  be 
left  in  active  control  of  the  company  as  equal  owners 
of  the  stock  with  the  voting  power." 

"  And  pay  ourselves  good,  fat  salaries,  I  suppose," 
said  I. 

'  We'd  pay  ourselves  properly,"  he  told  me. 

"How  much?" 

"  Oh,  say  fifteen  thousand  dollars  a  year." 

Then  he  stopped  a  minute,  and  waited  and  let  it 
sink  in.  And  it  did,  all  right.  I  got  it.  I  didn't 
have  to  be  told  what  he  could  do,  if  he  called  for  his 
money  from  the  Company. 

"  I  think  that  is  about  the  substance  of  the  plan," 
he  said,  fingering  the  bottom  of  the  vase,  where  his 
hothouse  flowers  were,  "  as  it  came  to  me,  trying  to 
work  out  a  fair  arrangement  for  every  one.  I  knew, 
of  course,  it  might  not  appeal  to  you,  personally," 
he  said,  looking  up.  "  But  of  course,"  he  said,  star- 
ing me  in  the  eye,  "that's  your  option  —  whether 
you  do  it  or  not." 

It  certainly  was  a  fine  option. 


A  Sharp  Corner  161 

"  Who  would  you  have  managing  the  shop  in  the 
place  of  Mr.  Thomas?  "  I  said,  still  holding  in  till 
1  got  it  all. 

"Mr.  McAdam  —  his  assistant  —  under  you," 
he  answered.  "  You  would  be  president  and  I  treas- 
urer." 

"  I  see,"  said  I. 

"  You  would  take  the  business  and  I  the  financial 
end." 

"  I  see,"  I  said  again. 

I  did  —  as  plain  as  if  it  had  already  happened. 
He  in  the  bank  managing  it  —  under  absolute  control 
until  his  debt  was  paid  off;  I  working  for  him,  under 
guard  by  those  slink-eyed  spies  of  his  —  those  Mc- 
Adams,  until  he'd  got  what  he  wanted  out  of  me 
—  as  he  had  now  out  of  Pasc.  I  working,  day  after 
day,  with  that  still-faced,  cold-handed  crowd  watch- 
ing me,  till  they  got  what  they  wanted  out  of  me. 
Then  another  banker's  trick;  another  shift,  and 
they'd  slip  the  knife  into  me  in  the  dark,  and  I'd  be 
out  in  the  street  with  Pasc.  And  this  still-faced 
thing,  with  his  still  agents,  were  to  have  the  whole 
concern  we'd  made  in  his  own  hands,  perma- 
nently. 

And  then  I  broke  loose.  "  So  that's  it,"  I  came 
out  finally,  getting  red  in  the  face. 

"That's  what?"  he  asked  me. 

"  That's  what  you've  been  sitting  around  cooking 
up  the  last  few  months.  It's  a  fine  scheme  —  you've 
got  it  down  fine!  In  the  first  place,  you  and  I  get 
together  and  put  Pasc  Thomas  down,  and  take  his 
invention  and  his  property  away  from  him." 


162    The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

I  saw  him  get  a  little  white,  when  I  said  that,  in 
spite  of  himself. 

"  By  Gripes,"  I  said,  this  thing  striking  me  all  of  a 
sudden  —  what  he  was  trying  to  do!  'What  do 
you  take  me  for?  What  do  I  look  like  to  you  —  a 
man  that  will  double-cross  his  best  friend  —  for  the 
sake  of  a  few  dollars?  Or  a  million,  either!"  I 
said.  "  For  I'm  inclined  to  think  now  you  see  some- 
thing in  this  —  something  bigger  than  I  thought 
even !  What  do  you  think  I  am,  a  crook?  " 

"  You  needn't  make  quite  so  much  noise  —  unless 
you  feel  you  must,"  said  Proctor  Billings,  giving  me 
an  ugly  look.  It  was  a  queer  thing  to  see.  The 
hotter  and  redder  I  got,  the  colder  and  stiller  he 
was. 

"  I'll  make  what  noise  I  want  to,"  I  said.  "  If 
you  made  a  little  more  noise,  occasionally,"  I  told 
him,  "moving  around,  people  would  trust  you  a 
little  more.  There's  worse  things  in  a  man  than 
noise,  I've  found." 

And  he  sat  still. 

"  That's  the  first  thing,"  I  went  along.  "  Pasc 
Thomas  goes;  and  I  stay.  I  and  you  and  the  other 
still-faced  boys  you'll  keep  around  me  in  the  factory 
—  watching.  And  when  the  time  comes,  and  you  get 
what  you  want  out  of  me  —  out  I  go  on  the  sidewalk, 
flipped  out,  with  another  banker's  trick.  And  there 
we'll  be.  Thomas  and  I  out  in  the  cold.  And  you 
with  the  property. 

"  I  like  that,"  I  said.  "  That'd  be  a  fine  thing  for 
me  I  Oh,  no.  I'm  not  much.  But  I'm  too  wise  for 
that.  I  know  I  can't  go  up  against  the  game  that 


A  Sharp  Corner  163 

you  still-faced  boys  in  the  bank  can  work  up;  not 
alone,  anyway!  " 

'  Wait,"  said  Billings,  breaking  in  on  me.  I 
could  see  from  his  voice  and  his  face  that  he  was 
white  mad.  White  and  still  and  dangerous.  "  It 
isn't  necessary  to  bawl,"  he  told  me,  "  or  insult  me. 
All  you  have  to  do  is  to  withdraw  from  our  arrange- 
ment—  and  finance  yourself  elsewhere." 

"  Yes,"  I  said.  "  In  other  words,  you'll  shut 
down  on  us,  and  demand  your  money." 

"  You  can  put  it  that  way,  if  you  like,"  he  said. 
"  I  should  probably  want  my  money  when  it  came 
due." 

"  And  if  you  didn't  get  it,  I  suppose,  you'd  take 
the  business,  eh?  " 

"  I  would  try  and  take  care  of  my  claim,"  he 
said. 

He  had  it  all  worked  out,  all  right.  He  had  us, 
if  he  went  ahead  and  demanded  his  money  now.  I 
saw  that  as  well  as  anybody.  But  I  wasn't  in  any 
condition  to  admit  it  then. 

"  All  right,"  I  said.  "  Go  ahead.  Have  a  try 
—  grab  it,  if  you  think  you  can !  But  you'll  have 
one  of  the  prettiest  little  fights  you  ever  had,  before 
you  get  through.  I'll  promise  you  that. 

"  Now  you  begin  to  see  how  big  it  is,"  I  said.  I 
was  crazy,  thinking  of  what  he  was  trying  to  do. 
"  You're  going  to  strangle  us,  till  our  tongues  hang 
out,  huh?"  I  said,  shaking  my  fist  in  his  face. 
"  You're  going  to  take  it  away  from  us.  Go  ahead. 
Try  it!  Try  it!" 

"  But  there's  one  thing,"  he  said  to  me,  when  I 


164    The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

stopped,  cold  and  quiet  as  if  I  hadn't  spoken  at  all, 
"  you'll  have  to  remember." 

"What's  that?" 

"  You  haven't  the  entire  decision  in  this  matter  — 
yourself." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  that?  "  I  asked  him. 

"  I  mean  you  don't  control  the  stock  now,  as  I  un- 
derstand it." 

And  I  stood  gaping  at  him,  wondering  what  he 
had  up  his  sleeve  now.  "  There's  another  man  who 
owns  half  of  it,  isn't  there?  "  he  asked  me. 

"  Pasc  Thomas !  "  I  said. 

"  Yes." 

"Pasc  Thomas!"  I  said  again,  and  burst  out 
laughing.  "  He'll  throw  himself  out,  I  suppose,"  I 
said,  "  of  the  thing  he  cares  more  for  than  anything 
else  on  earth." 

But  it  made  no  impression  on  him.  He  stood 
there,  looking,  his  face  motionless. 

"  If  I  were  you,"  said  Proctor  Billings,  "  I  would 
wait  and  find  out  what  he  says,  before  you  decide 
definitely  to  commit  financial  suicide." 


CHAPTER  XIV 

REORGANIZED 

I  went  back  to  Pasc  Thomas  at  the  factory,  froth- 
ing at  the  mouth. 

"  You  know  what  the  game  is?  Do  you  know 
what  that  crook  is  trying  to  do?  "  I  said,  when  I  got 
him  off  by  himself,  where  those  two  McAdams  — 
those  spies  of  Billings  —  couldn't  overhear  us. 

"No.  What?"  said  Pasc,  sitting  staring,  with 
his  long  hands  hanging  on  his  knees. 

u  He  wanted  me  to  go  in  with  him,  and  freeze 
you  out." 

'  You  don't  mean  that!  "  said  Pasc. 

"  I'll  show  you  what  he  did,"  said  I.  And  I  told 
him  just  exactly  what  the  scheme  was.  The  further 
I  got  with  it,  the  stiller  he  sat  looking  off. 

"  Do  you  see  it  now?  "  I  said,  when  I  got  through. 

"  I  don't  know  as  I  do,"  he  said,  coming  back  to 
earth  for  a  minute. 

"  Why  not?  It's  as  plain  as  the  nose  on  your 
face,"  I  told  him.  "  He  gets  his  line  on  the  busi- 
ness —  and  sees  there's  a  fortune  in  it.  Then  he 
gets  these  two  fellows,  these  two  sneaks,  these  slink- 
eyed  Scotchmen,  into  the  factory.  And  the  minute 
he  thinks  he  knows  it  —  he's  got  it  learned  enough 
—  out  comes  that  long  white  hand  and  grabs  it." 


166     The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

"  He  didn't  want  you  to  get  out,"  said  Pasc. 

"  No.  He  needed  me  for  the  present.  He 
hasn't  got  the  selling  end  learned  yet,"  said  I.  "  But 
he'll  get  me  some  way,  when  he's  ready  —  or  he 
thinks  he  can,  anyway  —  by  sitting  back  and  cook- 
ing up  some  other  crooked  trick,  and  springing  it  on 
me  when  the  time  comes." 

"  I  don't  know  about  that  either,"  said  Pasc, 
talking  lower  and  lower,  the  louder  I  talked. 

"  Well,  I  do,"  I  said,  "  it's  you  go  now  —  and  next 
me  —  and  then  he  gets  it  all.  That's  the  program. 
We  all  go  out  one  by  one  till  he  gets  it. 

"  Oh,  no,"  I  said.  "  No.  I  can  see  through  a 
millstone.  He  thinks  he's  got  us  now,  where  the 
hair's  short,  where  we  don't  dare  to  fight.  But 
there's  where  he  fools  himself.  He's  going  to  have 
the  warmest  fight  he  ever  had  yet,  before  he  gets 
this ;  he's  going  to  hear  from  — "  . 

And  all  at  once  I  looked  up  and  I  realized  Pasc 
wasn't  paying  the  slightest  attention  to  me;  just  sat 
looking  off. 

"  What's  the  matter  with  you?  "  I  said,  stopping 
short.  "  Are  you  sick  —  or  what?  " 

"  No,"  he  said,  starting  up  and  catching  himself, 
and  coming  back  to  earth  again. 

'What  does  ail  you  then?  Aren't  you  inter- 
ested? What  are  you  thinking  of  —  staring  off  like 
that?" 

"  I  think,"  said  Pasc  finally,  clearing  his  throat, 
"I  think  he's  right!" 

"  Right!  "  said  I,  going  up  into  the  air.  "  Who? 
Proctor  Billings?  What  do  you  mean?  Oh,  I  see. 


Reorganized  167 

You  mean  he's  got  it  figured  out  right.  That 
we  can't  get  away  from  him  any  way?  Well, 
if—" 

"  No,"  said  Pasc.     "  That  ain't  what  I  mean." 

"  What  is  it,  then?     What  do  you?  " 

"  No,"  he  said,  talking  slow.  "  I  think  he's  right 
—  about  the  whole  thing." 

"Right!  "I  yelled. 

"  I've  got  to  get  out.     But  you'll  stay." 

"Get  out,"  I  yelled  again.  "You?  Well  —  I 
guess  not !  And  he  can't  force  you  out  either  I  You 
get  out,"  I  said,  "  of  the  company?  Why?  " 

"  I  believe  it  will  be  the  only  sensible  thing  to  do; 
I'm  not  fitted  for  it,  just  as  he  says." 

"  Sensible !  "  I  said,  watching  him  close  —  to  see 
whether  he  was  crazy  or  I  was.  "  Fitted!  What 
do  you  mean  by  that?  Who's  to  be  the  judge  of 
that  —  a  man  like  Proctor  Billings,  who's  walked 
through  a  machine  shop  three  times  with  chamois 
gloves  on?  " 

"  He's  right,"  said  Pasc  again. 

"  He's  nothing  of  the  kind,"  I  came  back. 
"  What  are  you  talking  about?  " 

"  But  it's  more  than  that,"  said  Pasc,  going 
along  in  a  kind  of  level  voice. 

11  More,"  said  I.     "  What  does  that  mean?  " 

"  It  means,"  he  said,  "  it's  happened  just  right  for 
me.  Almost  providential."  And  I  sat  there, 
watching  him  with  my  eyes  hanging  out  on  my 
cheeks.  '  The  fact  is,"  said  Pasc,  "  I've  got  to  quit, 
anyhow!  " 

"Quit!" 


168     The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

"  I  ain't  been  very  well  all  the  spring,"  he  told 
me. 

"  Those  headaches?  " 

"  Yes.  There  hasn't  been  a  day  for  the  last  three 
months  I  haven't  had  one  of  those  condemned 
things  splitting  my  head  open.  And  now  lately  the 
doctor's  been  giving  me  warning  I've  got  to  quit." 

"  Why  didn't  you  tell  me  about  it?  "  I  asked  him. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know,"  said  Pasc,  looking  off. 
"What  good  would  it  do?  We  couldn't  either  of 
us  stop,  the  way  we  were  fixed.  Though  occasion- 
ally," he  said,  "  I  did  have  to  knock  off  and  go  home, 
when  you  were  away;  and  leave  McAdam  in  charge." 

"  I'll  bet  you  — "  I  said,  stopping,  thinking. 

"What?" 

"  That's  how  Billings  heard  it,"  I  said  —  "  about 
you  being  willing  to  get  out." 

"  Probably  so,"  said  Pasc. 

And  then  we  sat  still  a  minute.  It  was  an  awful 
thump  to  me ! 

;<  Was  he  pretty  positive  about  it?  "  I  asked  him. 

"Who?" 

"  The  doctor." 

4  Yes;  he  said  I'd  got  to  quit,  or  there'd  be  trou- 
ble. There  is  some  now.  But  not  so  dangerous,  if 
I  quit  right  away."  And  he  sat  still  a  minute  longer, 
letting  that  soak  in. 

I  wouldn't  have  it.  I  couldn't  make  myself  be- 
lieve it. 

14  I  don't  believe  it's  anything,  anyhow,"  I  said, 
"  but  just  your  stomach.  I  know  from  experience. 
I  can  always  trace  it  back  to  that." 


Reorganized  169 

"  No,  that  ain't  it  with  me  —  these  headaches  that 
I  have,  so  the  doctor  says,"  Pasc  told  me. 

"What  is?" 

"  It's  nerves.  Nerves  exhausted,"  said  Pasc. 
"  But  that  ain't  my  theory  of  it,  either.  I  think  I 
can  go  back  further  than  that." 

"To  what?  "said  I. 

"  Like  half  the  folks,  nowadays  — " 

"What's  that?" 

"Speed,"  said  Pasc,  smiling  that  old  quick  smile 
again.  "  Speed.  I  ain't  geared  up  for  this  kind  of 
thing  —  this  last  year  or  two.  It's  got  going  too 
many  revolutions  a  minute  for  me  —  about  the  way 
it  did  with  that  Myrtle,  and  her  bookkeeping." 

"  Don't  be  a  damn  fool,  Pasc,"  said  I,  "  compar- 
ing yourself  to  her." 

"  I  mean  it,"  he  said.  "  We've  got  speeded  up 
too  fast  lately  for  human  beings,  I  believe.  You 
can  stand  it,  maybe;  I  thought  I  could,"  he  said,  look- 
ing at  me  the  way  envious  sick  folks  look  at  well  ones, 
"  But  I  can't.  You  don't  mind  it  at  all,  do  you?  " 

"  No,"  I  told  him.  "  It's  meat  and  drink  for  me. 
I  can  take  all  they  give  me.  And  I  believe  myself 
there's  something  else  the  matter  with  you,  besides 
work,  if  the  truth  was  told.  You're  naturally  tough. 
I  still  believe  there's  something  else  behind,  in  spite 
of  what  your  doctor  says." 

"  Maybe  there  is,"  said  Pasc,  opening  up  one  of 
those  sudden  grins  of  his  again.  "  Maybe  Zetta's 
got  it  right.  She  always  claims  the  trouble  with  me 
is  carburetor  on  the  brain. 

''  That  is  my  trouble,  too,  in  a  way,"  he  said,  "  and 


170    The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

always  has  been,  from  a  boy  —  getting  thinking, 
some  idea  riding  me  around  in  my  head.  It  sounds 
like  a  dumb  idiot  to  hear  another  man  tell  it,  but  I 
get  an  idea  on  my  mind,  and  I  can't  shake  it  off. 
It  comes  in  and  takes  possession  of  me.  And  I 
can't  do  anything  at  all,  after  that,  but  sit  thinking, 
thinking.  And  it's  worse,  of  course,  when  you're 
tired  out.  Your  brain  gets  loose  then;  you  lose  con- 
trol of  it,  and  it  goes  following  the  thing  around  like 
a  hound.  Like  a  foxhound,"  he  said,  "  you  have  to 
go  home  and  leave  at  the  night  fall.  And  you  hear 
him  sometimes  —  waking  up  —  going  following, 
tireder  and  tireder,  all  night  long.  Nights  are  the 
worst,"  he  said,  pushing  his  long  brown  stringy 
hair  back  from  his  old  wrinkled  forehead. 

"  I  guess  I'm  no  different,"  he  went  along,  think- 
ing, "  from  a  lot  of  folks  in  our  lines  —  around  ma- 
chine shops,  thinking  out  improvements.  You  see 
them,  all  over.  You  can  spot  them  as  far  as  you 
can  see.  Only,  I  struck  this  thing  that  went  so  well 
it  kept  me  jumping  nights  and  days  both.  And 
nights  and  days  are  too  much  for  me." 

"  So  you  think  you've  got  to  go?  "  said  I,  after 
quite  a  while,  thinking  it  over. 

"  Yes." 

11 1  God,"  I  said.  "  I  can't  get  used  to  it  1  "  And 
I  got  up  and  stood  at  the  window. 

"  I  can't,"  said  Pasc. 

"  I  always  sort  of  felt  we'd  keep  going  along  to- 
gether —  always,"  I  said,  after  awhile. 

"  So  did  I,  Bill,"  he  answered  me. 

And  we  both  stayed  still  for  a  minute  or  two.     I 


Reorganized  171 

stood  watching  out  the  window  at  a  couple  of  dogs, 
and  a  comic  opera  singer  on  a  billboard  across  the 
road. 

'  This  thing  was  our  baby,  Pasc,"  I  said  to  him  — 
when  I  thought  I  wanted  to.  "  We  fathered  it  and 
mothered  it,  and  sat  up  nights;  and  lugged  it  around, 
and  sweat  blood  and  cussed  over  it." 

"  I  know  it,"  said  he. 

And  we  shut  up  again.  I  looked  around  for  a  sec- 
ond. He  sat  there  hunched  up,  with  his  long  hands 
and  wrists  hanging  down,  and  those  pale-blue  eyes, 
staring  off,  forty  miles  in  back  of  nowhere. 

"  But  I  guess  there's  no  getting  around  it  now," 
he  said  finally.  "  I  guess  it's  got  to  be. 

"  I've  got  to  go  off  and  get  built  up  again.  Get 
rid  of  this  thing  gnawing  in  my  head  —  or  get  it 
worked  out.  Somebody's  got  to  work  it  out!  "  he 
said,  sitting  up  a  little,  and  clamping  those  far-off, 
absent-minded  eyes  back  on  mine  again.  "  Before 
long,  somebody's  got  to  work  out  a  carburetor  on 
an  entirely  different  principle  from  now,  with  the 
grade  of  gasoline  going  down  the  way  it  is  —  if 
we're  going  to  keep  going  on." 

I  had  to  smile  to  hear  him  —  after  he'd  just  been 
saying  he'd  have  to  give  it  all  up. 

"  Keep  going  on,"  I  said.  "  What  do  you  care? 
You  got  yours.  You  ain't  responsible  for  keeping 
the  world  going  on,  are  you?  " 

"  No,"  he  said,  staring  back,  "  I  don't  suppose 
I  am,  more  than  anybody  else.  But  I  have  to  just 
the  same  —  keep  going  on  with  it,  like  the  rest  oJ 
the  folks,  whether  I  want  to  or  not.  And  with  this 


172     The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

thing, —  now,  this  carburetor  thing  I've  got  on  my 
mind  —  I  guess  I'm  about  like  the  fellow  when  that 
old  Thirteen-Fourteen  Puzzle  was  going;  the  one 
they  said  locked  himself  up  in  a  room,  fighting  it;  and 
told  them,  if  he  didn't  come  out  alive  with  the  an- 
swer, they  could  bury  them  both  together. 

"  But  I'm  on  the  right  track  now,  I  believe,"  he 
said,  brightening  up  a  little.  "  I'm  on  an  idea  now 
that's  a  hundred  per  cent,  better  than  anything 
they've  got  yet." 

I  had  all  I  could  do  to  keep  from  laughing. 

"  No,"  he  went  along,  not  noticing  me,  "  I've  got 
a  queer  job  for  the  rest  of  my  life,  apparently.  I've 
got  to  go  off  and  get  my  health  back;  and  fight  this 
thing  on  my  brain.  I'll  have  all  the  money  I'll  need, 
apparently  —  and  more,  too,  if  what  you  say  is 
true." 

'  You're  a  funny  duck,  that  way,  ain't  you  ?  "  I  said 
to  him.  '  You*  never  did  care  a  whole  lot  for 
money." 

"  No,  I  never  was  very  ambitious  that  way,  I 
guess,"  he  told  me. 

*  You're  just  the  opposite  from  me,"  said  I. 

"  I  don't  know  but  what  I  am." 

"  Just  the  opposite,"  I  told  him.  "  I'm  out  for 
the  coin,  with  the  rest  of  them.  I'm  out  for  the  al- 
mighty dollar.  They  can  talk  about  the  evils  of  it, 
and  all  that,  and  how  they'd  go  without  it;  but  I 
notice  there's  none  of  them  ever  refuse  it  when  it 
comes  their  way.  It  may  be  an  evil,  but  no  man 
ever  got  heart  disease  yet  trying  to  run  away  from 
it. 


Reorganized  173 

"  And  if  you're  out,  Pasc,"  said  I;  "if  you  think 
you've  got  to  be  —  it  puts  a  little  different  look  on 
this  business  for  me.  In  the  past,  working  it  to- 
gether, it's  been  a  kind  of  pet  and  hobby  with  me.  A 
kind  of  part  of  us.  Our  own  business!  But  now 
with  you  out,  and  me  going  on  with  Proctor  Billings, 
it's  all  changed  to  me.  It's  dog  eat  dog.  From  this 
time  on  I'm  out  for  the  spondulax  —  for  all  there  is 
in  it.  I'm  out  for  big  money!  To  hell  with  the 
business  —  except  for  what  you  can  turn  it  into.  I'll 
work  this  thing  like  Billings  and  the  rest  of  them  — 
on  the  basis  of  the  multiplication  table,  no  favors 
asked  or  given. 

11  If  that's  the  game,"  I  said — "  and  I  guess  it  is 
—  I  can  play  it  with  the  next  one.  Let  him  try  on 
some  of  his  tricks.  Let  him  try  to  flip  me  out !  " 

"  I  don't  think  he  will,"  said  Pasc.  "  I  don't 
think  he  has  any  idea  of  it." 

"  Well,  if  he  has,"  I  said,  "  let  him.  I'm  no- 
body's  fool.  I  can  watch  and  keep  my  mouth  shut, 
myself,  if  I  have  to.  Watch  his  tricks,  and  get  on  to 
him.  And  on  the  other  hand,  if  1  do  keep  in  with 
him,  as  you  claim,  I'll  have  the  best  schoolmaster  in 
this  money  business  in  this  part  of'the  country." 

"  If  you  don't  start  fighting  him,"  said  Pasc,  grin- 
ning. 

"  Don't  you  fret  about  me,"  said  I.  "  I  can  stop 
fighting,  when  I  have  to.  When  I  think  there's 
something  in  it.  And  I  think  there  will  be  this 
time. 

"  I'm  going  to  sit  around  and  watch  his  tricks,"  I 
said,  making  up  my  mind  right  there,  "  and  learn 


174    The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

that  game  of  his.     Stay  right  with  him  everywhere 

—  in  this  business,  and  outside  —  if  1  can  work  it. 
Watch  Billings  running  that  money  machine  of  his. 
It'll  come  in  handy  to  me,  not  only  squeezing  the 
most  1  can  out  of  this  thing  of  ours;  but  there  ought 
to  be  something  else,  every  now  and  then,  on  the  side, 
if  you  only  have  sense  enough  to  see  it  and  pick  it  up, 
that  would  help  fat  up  your  bank  account  —  if  a 
man  keeps  his  eyes  open." 

"  You'll  get  to  be  a  terribly  tricky  man,  Bill,  I 
don't  doubt,"  said  Pasc,  looking  at  me  with  that 
faint  old  leathery  smile  he  had  sometimes,  around  his 
mouth. 

"  That's  all  right,"  I  told  him.  "  But  I  know, 
and  you  know  there  is  just  such  a  thing;  that  those 
fellows  with  the  money,  like  Proctor  Billings,  have 
got  a  system  for  grabbing  everything  and  turning  it 
into  money;  a  regular  machine  for  turning  money 
out  —  just  as  sure  as  we've  got  a  machine  shop  here, 
you  might  say,  for  turning  out  speed.  And  they've 
got  their  methods,  just  like  any  other  trade.  And 
it  won't  do  me  any  harm  to  sit  down  and  watch  them 
do  it.  See  how  a  man  like  Proctor  Billings  manipu- 
lates it,  to  turn  out  a  million  or  so  every  year  or  two 

—  out  of  nothing!  " 

'  You  mean  to  say,"  said  Pasc,  thinking  of  some- 
thing else  all  the  time,  "  that  he  thought  that  share 
of  mine  in  the  business  might  be  worth  three  hun- 
dred thousand  dollars,  when  everything  gets  started, 
at  seven  per  cent,  interest?  " 

11 1  can't  tell  you  what  he  thinks,"  said  I.  "  But  I 
do.  I'm  sure  of  it  now.  You'll  be  sure  of  that 


Reorganized  175 

much  in  a  year  or  two  —  if  he'll  put  himself  and  his 
money  right  behind  it  now." 

"  It  don't  seem  true,  exactly,"  said  Pasc,  looking 
off.  "  It  don't  seem  possible.  But  I'll  be  glad  for 
one  thing,  anyhow;  it'll  give  Zetta  a  chance  to  amuse 
herself  finally.  It  will  pay  her  back  a  little  for  hav- 
ing a  half  invalid  on  her  hands. 

"  Get  her  out  of  housework,  and  the  movies,  for 
amusements,"  he  said,  going  on  — "  give  her  some 
money  to  spend  dressing  herself;  and  let  her  move 
around,  and  have  some  lively  times,  the  way  lively 
good-looking  women  of  her  age  want  to.  And  do, 
when  they  ain't  hitched  up  to  an  old  cripple  like  me, 
with  a  case  of  carburetor  on  the  brain." 

"  Oh,  shut  up.     Don't  be  a  fool !  "     I  told  him. 


CHAPTER  XV 

AN   ANNIVERSARY 

Well,  I  was  president  of  that  new  corporation,  the 
Hoodlum  Motor  Cycle  Company,  and  Proctor  Bill- 
ings was  treasurer,  just  as  he  planned  it.  I  was  pro- 
tected in  my  rights  by  an  agreement;  but  he  was 
to  have  a  kind  of  general  veto  control  —  as  long  as 
his  money  was  financing  it.  But  not  a  minute 
longer ! 

"  There  are  two  main  things,"  he  said  to  me  after 
we  had  it  fixed,  "  as  I  analyze  it.  The  first  is  to 
speed  everything  up.  Speed  up  and  rush  out  the 
goods  for  the  demand  —  while  it's  on.  That's  your 
end." 

'  You  watch  me  jam  it,"  I  told  him. 

"  And  the  second  thing  is  to  get  the  money  to 
carry  it,  and  to  get  that  new  factory  up.  And 
that's  my  province." 

"  It  works  out  well,  don't  it,"  said  I,  "  when 
you  come  to  divide  it  up.  We  two  ought  to  knock 
the  tar  out  of  that  proposition." 

"  I  hope  so,"  he  said 

"  I  know  so,"  I  told  him.  I  was  feeling  good, 
to  see  it  going  the  way  it  was;  and  I  was  getting  on 
a  little  better  now,  more  friendly.  I'd  have  been 
friendly  with  the  devil  himself,  making  so  much 
money  as  we  two  were  together. 


An  Anniversary  177 

"  And  so  far  as  keeping  down  costs  go,  and  all 
that  detail  work,"  said  Billings,  "  I  don't  think  we 
can  do  better  than  those  two  Scotchmen  —  those 
two  McAdams  —  that  is,  if  you  have  no  objections." 

"Objections,  no!"  I  told  him.  "They  don't 
trouble  me  any.  Let  them  burrow.  I  don't  be- 
lieve you  could  beat  them  for  that  business." 

I  didn't  care  much  about  seeing  them  around  — 
those  two  silent  hangdog  things,  slipping  to  and 
fro  about  the  place.  But  I  knew  enough  to  know 
they  knew  their  business  —  under  Proctor  Billings' 
direction.  Queer  things  —  tougher  than  bull  beef; 
work  all  day  and  all  night,  and  keep  their  mouth 
shut  —  like  Indians  on  a  long  run.  They  liked 
the  game  for  the  game's  sake,  I  could  see,  watching 
them  —  besides  the  money.  They  worked  together 
—  one  holding  down  a  cent,  while  the  other  one 
skinned  it. 

So  we  started  out  on  that  new  arrangement  — 
Pasc  out  of  the  management  practically,  except  for 
a  consultation  now  and  then,  and  what  improve- 
ments he  worked  out;  keeping  his  own  hours,  drop- 
ping in  when  he  felt  like  it,  and  the  doctor  said 
he  might.  And  Billings  and  I  went  out  after  the 
business  —  I  after  the  trade,  and  he  after  the 
finances. 

He  knew  his  line,  I  had  to  hand  it  to  him  —  jolly- 
ing him,  when  I  got  to  know  him  better,  at  the 
twists  and  turns  he  took  in  the  money  end  of  the 
thing  as  we  got  along. 

1  You're  a  past  master  at  it,"  I  told  him.  "  I  can 
s«c  that.  Your  old  man  put  you  onto  the  ropes  b«- 


178    The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

fore  you  were  out  of  skirts.  You  were  wise  on  this 
money  business  long  before  he  put  you  into  this 
banking  machine  of  his." 

I  used  to  get  right  after  him  after  a  while. 

"  Oh  I'm  on  to  you,"  I  used  to  say.  "  Your  old 
man  turned  out  the  money  here  in  this  bank  in  a 
regular  machine  —  just  the  same  as  we  turn  out 
motor  cycles  or  old  Allen  turns  out  bicycle  spokes. 
And  handed  over  his  trade  to  you.  But  I  serve 
you  notice  right  now,"  I  told  him.  "  I'm  watching 
you  all  the  time  to  learn  your  tricks  —  to  see  what 
your  plant  is  and  how  you  run  it  —  just  the  same 
as  you  watched  us.  I'm  going  to  learn  before  I 
get  through,  how  one  of  these  money  machines  is 
put  together  and  operated.  How  you  smooth- 
handed  boys  go  to  work  to  get  the  dollars,  with- 
out ever  having  to  soil  your  fingers." 

It  made  him  squirm  some  —  I  could  see  that, 
when  I  got  after  him  that  way.  But  what  did  I 
care?  I  was  just  as  good  as  he  was.  And  I 
knew,  anyhow,  he'd  take  most  anything  from  a  man 
who  he  was  making  so  much  money  with  as  we  were 
together. 

I  don't  know  as  there's  much  to  say  about  that 
next  year,  except  that  everything  went  our  way,  and 
we  doubled  up  the  business  again.  I  don't  know  as 
I  could  remember  anything  particular,  if  it  had 
happened.  We  were  too  busy  to  remember  any- 
thing but  that  one  main  idea  —  the  business  always 
jumping  up  faster  and  faster;  and  we  people  in  the 
plant  rushing  around  like  crazy  men,  getting  up  at 
six  o'clock  and  getting  to  bed  at  midnight,  tearing 


An  Anniversary  179 

the  days  and  nights  to  pieces,  trying  to  keep  up 
with  our  new  business. 

"  You'll  kill  yourself,"  said  Polly.  She  was  all 
the  time  kicking  about  it. 

"Kill  myself,  nothing!"  I  said.  "The  more 
work  like  this  they  feed  me,  the  better  I  like  it.  I 
can  tear  it  up,  and  ask  for  more.  All  I  wish  is 
that  the  day  was  one  hundred  and  twenty-four  hours 
long  instead  of  what  it  is." 

"  All  right,"  said  Polly.  "  Have  it  your  own 
way.  Maybe  you  won't  say  that  some  day  —  if  you 
keep  going  all  night  and  all  day,  too.  You're 
human,  like  the  rest  of  us,  if  you  don't  think  so. 
Your  digestion's  all  out  of  kilter  now,  and  you  know 
it. 

"  Wh-why  wouldn't  it  be,"  she'd  say,  getting  ex- 
cited and  stammering;  "  sit-sitting  around  the 
restaurants  with  those  men  in  all  that  tobacco  smoke, 
eating  all  that  heavy  greasy  food." 

"  Oh,  go  hire  a  hall,  Pol,"  I  told  her.  "  I  know 
what  I'm  about.  Go  to  sleep.  You're  getting  so 
you  croak  like  a  tree  toad  in  a  summer  dry  spell  — 
all  night  long." 

But  I  was  showing  considerable  speed,  at  that. 
A  man  less  tough  than  I  was  wouldn't  have  stood 
it  —  rushing  around  keeping  the  plant  keyed  up  to 
the  last  notch;  getting  that  new  factory  started,  and 
the  extra  stuff  bought  for  it.  And  when  I  wasn't 
there,  going  jamming  around  the  country,  getting 
new  agencies  established,  sleeping  on  Pullmans  and 
eating  most  anything,  most  any  time,  taking  out 
the  trade,  getting  them  satisfied  and  friendly. 


180    The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

"  It's  lucky  God  gave  me  two  men's  appetite  — 
in  this  business!  "  I  used  to  tell  them.  "  Half  my 
value  to  the  company's  my  eating  ability  with  its 
customers." 

"  How  about  a  drink,  Bill  —  now  and  then  ?  "  said 
this  fellow  I  was  talking  to. 

11  You  never  saw  me  yet,"  I  said,  heating  up, 
"  when  I  turned  a  hair." 

"No,  Bill,  you're  a  wonder!  "  said  he. 

I  guess  that  was  right.  I  guess  if  I  hadn't  been 
extra  husky  I  never  could  have  stood  it.  Nor  if 
that  thing  hadn't  been  going  our  way  so  strong. 
You  can  always  manage  to  get  out  of  bed  in  the 
morning  and  go  at  it  again,  if  you  know  you're  mak- 
ing money  enough.  And  we  were  making  enough 
in  that  company  now  to  make  a  dead  man  get  up  and 
hustle.  By  the  end  of  that  year  there  was  no  ques- 
tion about  it  —  we  were  going  to  be  rich  out  of  it. 

Pasc  Thomas  didn't  seem  to  be  improved  so 
very  much  after  he  got  out  of  the  management. 
There  was  nothing  new;  just  his  nerves,  just  his 
sleeplessness  —  his  mind  still  out  of  his  control, 
chasing  around  after  carburetors  and  valves  or  some 
other  hundred  per  cent,  improvements  on  the  motor. 
He  wasn't  any  better  that  summer,  and  Zetta  finally 
came  to  me  with  an  idea  about  it.  She'd  got  so  she 
talked  pretty  free  to  me  —  about  everything. 

"  I  kind  of  believe  I'd  like  to  take  him  out  to 
the  West,"  she  said.  "  Go  to  Yellowstone  Park 
and  the  Rocky  Mountains;  and  then  go  down,  maybe, 
and  spend  the  fall  and  winter  in  Los  Angeles  —  if 
you  can  fix  it!  Give  him  a  change  of  air,  and  a 


An  Anniversary  181 


change  of  mind;  give  him  a  chance  to  sec  the  coun- 
try, and  turn  his  ideas  in  a  new  direction. 

"  And  I'm  speaking  once  for  him  and  twice  for 
myself,  I  guess,"  said  Zetta  — "  saying  it.  I 
wouldn't  mind  getting  out  and  seeing  the  country  a 
little  myself.  I  certainly  am  sick  of  this  town. 
It's  full  of  dead  ones.  From  all  I  can  see,  all  the 
women  around  where  we  live  want  to  do  is  to  read 
the  family  history,  and  turn  up  their  noses  at  any- 
body that's  shown  any  signs  of  life  since  1642." 

Her  face  got  kind  of  red  and  flushed,  talking 
about  it. 

"  So  I  believe  I'd  like  to  do  it,"  she  said,  "  both 
for  his  sake  and  mine,  if  you  can  fix  it  for  us  to  let 
Pasc  get  away  from  the  factory  entirely." 

"  I  can  do  better  than  that,  I  believe,  now,"  I  told 
her.  And  I  took  it  up  with  Billings. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  thinking  and  looking  down.  "  I 
think  we're  in  a  position  to  do  it,  now.  I  think 
there  is  no  reason  why  we  shouldn't  cut  off  his 
salary  now,  and  start  paying  him  his  dividends  on 
that  preferred  stock." 

"  It's  making  it  twice  over." 

"  Yes,"  he  said.     "  Five  times." 

And  so  we  started  in  on  the  preferred  dividends. 

"  You've  got  to  score  that  up  to  Billings'  credit, 
anyhow,"  said  Zetta,  tickled  to  death  with  the 
thought  of  getting  loose,  traveling. 

*  Yes,"  I  said.  But  I  could  see,  too,  that  there 
was  something  back  of  it;  that  Billings  figured  it 
was  good  policy  to  have  the  preferred  paying  divi- 
dends. 


182    The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

I  remember  that  night  before  Pasc  and  his  wife 
started  off  for  the  West,  and  the  dinner  party  Polly 
and  I  gave  them  up  at  our  house  —  the  four  of  us 
together,  in  our  new  house.  We'd  moved  then, 
just  lately,  into  our  house  on  Bellevue  Terrace.  We 
made  it  a  kind  of  anniversary  of  that  other  time  — 
that  first  time  they  came  to  our  other  house  on  Collins 
Street,  just  before  that  Labor  Day  race  that  started 
us  going. 

"It  seems  good,  don't  it,"  said  Pasc — "just  us 
four  together  again?" 

"  It  certainly  does,"  said  Polly. 

"  It  don't  seem  possible,"  said  Zetta,  looking  at 
me  with  that  kind  of  fixed  stare  she'd  got  in  her 
eyes,  since  Pasc's  poor  health.  "  All  that's  hap- 
pened! 

"  But  it  is,"  she  said,  breaking  off  her  stare,  and 
talking  louder.  "  That's  the  main  thing."  (And 
she  laughed  that  loud,  nervous  laugh  of  hers.) 
'  That's  the  main  thing  —  we've  got  it  now !  We've 
got  the  wherewithal  —  and  we  can  live !  Eh, 
Pasc?" 

She  looked  handsomer  than  ever  that  night.  She 
was  dressed  up  to  kill  —  in  one  of  those  flame- 
colored  dresses  she  used  to  wear,  after  that,  eve- 
nings. 

'Eh,  Pasc?"  she  said,  calling  across  the  table 
to  him. 

He  opened  up  that  quick  smile  of  his  —  and 
shut  it  up  again  without  talking. 

'  You  old  crank!     You  poor  old  rooster,  you!  " 
she  said  to  him.     "  You  never  could  learn  to  en- 


An  Anniversary  183 

joy  yourself,  if  you  lived  to  be  a  thousand  years  oldl 
Could  you?  "  she  said,  and  threw  a  kiss  at  him. 

"You  know  what  he's  doing  now?"  she  asked 
me.  "  He's  gone  back,  and  started  working  on  that 
darned  carburetor  again.  Started  up  again,  just  as 
we  began  packing  up  to  go  away." 

"  I  just  had  this  idea,"  said  Pasc,  looking  sheep- 
ish, "  I  thought  I'd  get  down  before  it  slipped  me." 

"Out  comes  the  .old  envelope  and  stub,  eh?"  I 
said  to  Zetta. 

"  Yep,"  she  told  me.  "  It's  something  a  hun- 
dred per  cent,  better  this  time!  " 

"  You  bet,"  said  I.     "Always!" 

"  But  he's  going  to  cut  it  out  on  this  trip,"  she 
said,  her  face  coming  down  sober,  "  or  I'll  know 
the  reason  why.  I'm  going  to  get  it  off  his  mind, 
for  once  —  and  my  own !  "  she  said.  Her  voice 
was  getting  kind  of  sharp  and  jangly.  "  For  one 
while!  That's  what  we  agreed  before  we  started. 
And  I'll  see  he  keeps  his  agreement." 

"  Good  for  you,  Zet,"  I  told  her.  "  I  bet  on 
you!" 

"  You  better,"  she  said.  "  Now  let's  talk  about 
something  that's  agreeable.  Let's  talk  about  the 
money  you're  going  to  make." 

'  That  sounds  good  to  me,"  I  said,  laughing. 

"  How  much  is  it  going  to  be  this  year,  Bill?  "  she 
asked  me,  looking  at  me  with  those  devil-may-care 
black  eyes  of  hers.  "Your  share?  A  hundred 
thousand  dollars?  " 

"  Not  this  year,"  I  came  back  at  her.  "  Next. 
You  got  that  one  little  detail  wrong,  that's  all." 


184    The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

"Otherwise  I'm  all  right?"  she  said. 

"You're  all  right,  all  the  time  —  to  me!"  I 
told  her. 

"  You  remember  that  time,"  she  said,  "  that  other 
time  we're  celebrating  now  —  when  we  all  sat  to- 
gether in  the  old  house  on  Collins  Street  —  trying 
to  figure  out  how  we  could  possibly  pull  it  out,  and 
get  the  old  Hoodlum  started!  " 

"  And  your  ring!  "  Polly  struck  in. 

"  You  bet  I  do,"  said  I.  "  And  that  reminds  me," 
I  said,  looking  over  at  Polly;  and  I  reached  in  and 
dug  that  diamond  ring  I  had  for  her  out  of  my  vest 
pocket  —  the  biggest  stone  I  could  find  in  town. 
"  That  reminds  me  —  of  something  that's  got  to  be 
done  right  now." 

And  I  got  up  from  the  table,  and  got  a  chair,  and 
dragged  it  up  back  of  her. 

"  Just  to  show  you  my  memory's  good,"  I  said, 
"  Shut  your  eyes  now!  " 

And  I  reached  over,  while  she  shut  them,  and 
pushed  it  on  her  finger. 

"  There,"  said  I,  putting  it  on.  "  Don't  say  I 
never  gave  you  anything!" 

"Bill,"  said  Polly,  laughing.  "  That  —  that 
isn't  the  right  finger.  You've  got  it  on  the  engage- 
ment finger." 

"  That's  all  right,"  I  told  her.  "  Any  old  finger 
goes  with  us,  don't  it,  Zet?  " 

'  You  bet  it  does,  with  you,  Bill,"  she  said. 

"  And  if  Pasc  says  anything,  I'll  go  to  the  mat 
with  him,"  I  told  her  — "  right  now !  " 

And  Pasc  grinned. 


An  Anniversary  185 

"  Take  your  hand  away,  anyway,"  said  Polly, 
"  so  she  can  see  it." 

She  sat  there  for  a  minute,  when  I  did;  that  fine 
dark  red  color  of  hers  mounting  up  to  her  cheeks. 

"  You've  knocked  me  speechless,  Bill,"  she  said, 
finally,  turning  it  around  to  look  at  it. 

"  It's  the  biggest  I  could  find  here  in  town,  Zet," 
I  told  her.  "  It's  a  quarter  of  a  carat  more  than 
my  ring  is." 

"  It's  a  wonder  —  that's  what  it  is,"  she  said,  still 
staring  at  it.  "  Bill,  you're  a  peach  to  me.  You 
always  were,"  she  said,  flushing  up  some  more. 

"  S-sh,"  I  said.  "  It's  all  right,  but  don't  let  my 
wife  know  about  it." 

And  the  rest  of  us  all  laughed  and  got  red. 

"  She'll  never  know  from  me,"  said  Zet,  turning 
and  pretending  to  sit  up  close  to  me,  where  our 
chairs  were  together  —  and  then  looked  down  at 
the  stone  some  more. 

"  But  it  was  great  of  you,  Bill  —  and  her,  too," 
she  said,  and  smiled  at  Polly.  "  But  you  most,  of 
course,  Bill,"  turning  back  to  me. 

"  Of  course,"  said  I. 

"  I  certainly  love  'em,"  she  said.  "  I  never  could 
get  enough  of  them,  especially  like  that !  Why,  I'd 
kiss  a  man  for  less  than  that,  Bill !  "  she  said,  looking 
up  at  me,  all  at  once. 

"  Go  as  far  as  you  like,"  said  I.  And  she 
did,  she  kissed  me  —  somewhere  on  the  northeast 
corner  of  my  ear. 

"Here.     That'll  do!"  said  Pasc,  grinning. 

"  That's  for  remembering,"  she  said  to  me. 


186    The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

"  Oh,  I  don't  forget  things  like  that  very  often," 
I  said.  "  Not  if  I  know  myself." 

"I  know  you  don't,"  said  Zetta.  "But  here! 
I'm  forgetting  something  myself,"  she  said;  and 
went  over  and  got  it  from  Pasc.  "  You  can't  guess 
what  I've  got  for  you,  Bill,"  she  told  me. 

"  Is  it  anything  like  that  arrangement  you  got 
Polly,"  I  asked  her,  "  with  the  lace  all  over  it?  " 

"  No,"  she  said,  and  pulled  out  this  watch  charm 
—  a  Hoodlum,  all  made  up  and  cast  in  gold. 

"  Pasc  had  it  made  for  me,  exactly  right,"  she 
said.  "  And  see  —  that  diamond  is  the  head- 
light!" 

"  It's  a  beaut,"  said  I.  "  It's  a  dandy."  And  I 
sat  looking  at  it. 

"Do  you  like  it  —  really?"  she  said,  looking 
over  at  my  chain.  "  Do  you  think  it's  as  good  as 
your  Elk's  emblem?  " 

"  He'd  be  silly  if  he  didn't,"  said  Polly.  "  Those 
old  Elks!" 

"  I  would,  that's  right,"  I  said.  "  I  don't  know 
when  I've  had  anything  that  struck  my  fancy  so." 

I  didn't  either;  it  was  certainly  all  right. 

"  For  all  kinds  of  things,"  I  said.  "  For  a  keep- 
sake, for  one  thing;  or  for  just  the  way  it's  made 
up;  it's  a  model,  ain't  it  —  a  real  model?  It's  a 
Hoodlum,  just  to  the  T.  That's  what  it  is.  It's 
a  regular  razulah,"  I  said  — "  and  don't  you  for- 
get it!" 

"  I'm  glad  you  think  so,"  said  Zet. 
1  To  say  nothing  of  the  girl  that  gave  it  to  me," 
I  told  her. 


An  Anniversary  187 

"  Well,  we'll  have  to  be  going  before  long,  won't 
we,  Zet,"  said  Pasc,  finally,  "  if  we're  going  to  get 
everything  ready  for  starting  in  the  morning." 

And  then  we  drank  a  toast  or  two  to  them  — 
when  they  said  they'd  got  to  go. 

"  Here's  to  us,"  said  I.  "  Here's  hoping.  All 
we  want  —  and  a  little  more  of  it!  A  long  life," 
I  said  — 

"  And  an  amusing  one,"  said  Zetta,  taking  it 
away  from  me.  "  Plenty  of  amusement,"  she  said, 
and  got  up  on  my  chair. 

"  Here's  one,"  she  said,  "  for  all  of  us!  Here's 
to  the  old  Hoodlum  —  long  may  she  pop !  "  And 
waved  with  her  handkerchief. 

And  after  that  they  went  along  home. 

'  Take  care  of  yourself  good,"  I  heard  Polly 
telling  Pasc.  "  Come  back  here  all  rested.  Don't 
let  that  giddy  girl  drag  you  around  too  much  and 
keep  you  from  your  rest." 

"  No  danger.  Don't  worry,"  said  Zet,  laughing 
and  flashing  her  teeth.  "  It's  carburetor  that  ails 
him.  That's  what's  breaking  up  our  home." 

"  Isn't  she  the  wild  one,  when  she  once  gets 
started,"  I  said  to  Polly,  talking  them  over  with 
her,  the  way  you  do  with  your  wife,  getting  ready 
for  bed. 

"  Absolutely  lawless,"  said  Polly. 

"  But  just  as  good-hearted  as  she  can  stick." 

'  Yes,  she  is,"  said  Polly.  "  But  what  she  wants 
most  is  excitement.  Crazy  all  the  time  for  some- 
thing to  do !  " 

"  It's  funny,  too,"  I  said,  "  with  Pasc  just  the 


188     The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

other  way  so  —  especially  now  he  ain't  well.  I 
don't  know  as  they  ought  ever  to  have  married. 
And  yet,"  I  said,  thinking,  "  they  seem  to  think  the 
world  of  each  other,  too." 

"  They  do,"  said  Polly.  "  That's  the  worst  of 
it." 

"  But  if  he  gets  tired  of  her,"  I  said,  "  there's 
plenty  that'll  have  her.  She's  certainly  one  good 
looker.  She  can  come  and  sit  on  my  knee  any  time 
she  wants  to." 

"  Can  she  ?  "  said  Polly.  "  We-well,  she  wouldn't 
if  she  had  to  live  with  you,  and  knew  how  cross 
and  ugly  you  were  to  live  with  these  days.  I'm  not 
worrying  about  any  woman  running  off  with  you 
especially!  All  I'm  afraid  of  now  is,  when  you  get 
up  so  ugly  as  you  do  when  you  don't  sleep  right 
lately,  you'll  go  out  some  morning  and  b-bite  some 
poor  child  in  the  street,  and  have  to  pay  damages 
for  it." 

"  Is  that  so?  "  said  I,  pinching  her. 

"  Y-yes.  And  now  let's  go  to  sleep,  if  you  intend 
to  get  any  —  or  let  me  —  before  you've  got  to  get 
up  and  start  in  on  that  new  factory  tomorrow  morn- 
ing. If  you  don't  want  to  kill  yourself,  you'll  have 
to  get  some  sleep  sometime,  especially  now!  " 

We  were  just  getting  the  new  factory  finished 
that  time  when  Pasc  and  Zet  were  starting  for  the 
Coast,  and  getting  into  it  between  times  —  trying 
to  —  without  stopping  filling  our  orders.  And 
those  were  certainly  some  strenuous  days.  It  was 
quite  a  place  —  this  new  one.  Proctor  Billings  had 
built  it  and  leased  it  to  us  on  a  piece  of  land  he 


An  Anniversary  189 

owned  along  the  railroad;  on  Thomas  Avenue, 
a  new  street  he  opened  up  and  named  after 
Pasc. 

I  was  there  all  that  next  day,  working  my  head 
off,  getting  things  started;  and  late  again  at  night, 
going  home  for  supper.  And,  going  out  through 
the  shop  to  my  auto,  I  ran  into  old  Tom  Powers, 
coming  in  on  his  job  for  the  night.  It  seemed  kind 
of  funny  to  see  him  there  —  after  being  in  the  old 
place  so  long — and  I  stopped  and  talked  with  him 
a  minute  about  the  new  plant. 

"  How  do  you  like  it,  Tom,"  said  I.  "  As  far 
as  it's  got?" 

"  It's  a  grand  place,"  he  said.  "  You  ought  to 
be  well  satisfied  with  it." 

"  I  am,"  I  told  him.  "  It's  some  different,  eh, 
from  the  old  days  when  we  were  starting  up  in  that 
one  floor  on  Elm  Street?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Tom.     "  There's  some  changes." 

"  But  it  was  a  good  old  shack  at  that,  Tom,"  I 
said.     "  You   can   try   as  you   like,   but  you   can't 
quite  forget  the  place  you  started  out  in." 
'  You  can't,  that's  right,"  he  answered  me. 

And  we  stopped  a  second  or  two. 

"  I  hear  'em  saying,"  he  went  along,  "  Mr. 
Thomas  is  out  now  entirely." 

"  Well,  no,"  I  said.  "  He's  got  his  stock  here 
yet,  Tom,  but  he  won't  be  very  active  here  again, 
probably." 

"  Well,  he'll  have  money  enough,  that's  one 
thing,"  said  Tom.  "Where  is  he  now?  What'll 
he  be  doing?  " 


190    The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

"  He's  gone  out  West,  for  his  health,  to  have  a 
little  rest." 

"  Ah-ha,"  said  Tom,  wagging  his  old  skull.  "  But 
he  won't  rest  just  the  same." 

"  Why  not?" 

"  That  kind  never  does,"  said  the  old  man.  "  I 
know.  I  know  myself,  from  experience.  When  your 
mind  gets  started  on  a  thing." 

"  You  do,  Tom,  that's  right,"  said  I,  looking  at 
him.  "  You  do,  don't  you?  How's  your  machine? 
How's  the  old  Miracle  coming  these  days  —  any- 
how?" 

"  Oh,  I  can't  complain,"  said  Tom.  "  She's  com- 
ing along;  I  think  I  can  see  now  the  way  to  get 
around  that  one  hitch  in  her." 

"  Good,"  said  I,  patting  him  on  the  back.  "  Got 
her  moved  over  into  the  new  place?  "  I  asked  him. 

"  I  have." 

"  Well,  I  guess  you're  right,  Tom,"  I  told  him, 
smiling,  and  thinking  about  what  Zet  had  said  about 
Pasc  and  his  carburetor.  "  You  fellows  are  all 
about  the  same.  You  won't  let  up  until  they  bury 
you." 

"  That's  right,  too,"  said  Tom. 

And  I  told  him,  in  a  word  or  two,  what  Pasc  was 
trying  to  do  with  the  carburetor,  and  the  higher 
speed  motor. 

*  That's  what  they're  after,"  said  Tom. 
'  They're  going  faster  and  faster,"  I  told  him, 
especially  with  those  aeroplane  motors.     They  heat 
up  so,  they  can't  do  anything  with  them." 

'  You  saw  in  the  paper  how  the  Wright  boys  had 


An  Anniversary  191 

sold   their   flying   invention   to   those   Frenchmen," 
said  Tom. 

"  Yes,"  said  I. 

'  You  never  thought  it  would  amount  to  much," 
he  said,  reminding  me. 

"  No,"  I  answered  him,  "  I  didn't.  Well,"  I  said, 
"your  time  will  be  coming  next,  Tom  —  with  the 
old  Miracle !  "  And  I  slapped  him  on  the  back  and 
walked  along. 

He  stood  there,  looking  down,  with  his  hand  by 
his  side,  leaner  and  older,  and  more  like  an  old 
skeleton  than  ever. 

I  heard  him  clearing  his  throat,  and  then  finally 
he  called  after  me. 

"  Mr.  Morgan,"  he  said. 

"  Yep." 

"  Did  you  hear  about  my  boy?  " 

"  No." 

"  He  just  had  a  bad  accident  in  one  of  them 
racing  Bowls." 


CHAPTER  XVI 

AN   EARLY    CREDITOR 

"  Yes,  I  did !  "  I  said.  "  I  lied.  I  did  hear  about 
that.  Certainly  I  did!  " 

I  had.  But  I'd  been  so  busy  that  time  that  it  had 
just  passed  out  of  my  mind.  I'd  heard  it  a  night  or 
two  before,  stopping  at  the  garage  for  gas  —  over- 
hearing some  of  those  bottle-shaped  boys  hanging 
around  there,  talking  about  it. 

"  How  did  it  happen?  "  I  asked  one  of  them. 

"  That  Shang  Murphy,"  he  told  me,  stopping 
chewing  gum  a  minute.  "  He'd  been  laying  for  him 
for  two  years,  you  might  say." 

"  I  thought  they  were  both  riding  on  the  same 
team  —  for  the  Rajah  people." 

"  They  were,"  he  said.  "  But  not  lately.  That 
Shang  got  a  bad  spill  a  while  ago,  and  they  never 
took  him  back  on  again,  so  lately  he'd  been  riding 
independent,  on  the  outside." 

And  stopped,  the  way  they  do, —  not  talking  to 
you,  till  you  make  them  go  on. 

"  He  was  sore,"  he  told  me  finally  — "  at  Chuck, 
especially.  He  thought  he  got  him  off  the  team  — 
and  swiped  his  place  as  their  principal  rider.  So  he 
had  it  in  for  him.  He  always  did  have,  at  that,  ever 
since  that  first  race  Chuck  beat  him,  riding  for  you." 

"So  that's  it,  huh?"  I  said. 

He  would  know,  of  course,  that's  all  they  talk 


An  Early  Creditor  193 

about,  those  wise  boys  in  front  of  the  garages  — 
the  women  going  by  and  how  fast  they  can  run  a  car 
or  a  motor  cycle.  And  more  so,  naturally,  in  a  town 
where  the  factory  is. 

"  Is  that  so?  "  said  I.  "  How  bad  was  Powers 
hurt?" 

"  They  say  it's  his  right  hand,"  he  told  me.  "  A 
wheel  got  it." 

"  I  God,"  I  said.  "  That's  getting  to  be  an 
awful  game,  those  Bowls,  with  the  speeds  they're 
making  now.  They  ought  to  do  something  to  stop 
it." 

It  all  came  back  to  me,  of  course  —  what  I'd 
heard  about  it  —  when  old  Tom  spoke  to  me.  I 
told  him  so. 

"  How's  he  coming  out?  "  I  asked  him. 

"  Well,  he  won't  race  any  more,  probably,"  he 
told  me.  "  Anyhow,  that's  what  they  said  at  the 
hospital." 

"  I  understand  it's  his  right  hand,"  I  said,  "  like 
yours." 

"  Not  so  bad,"  he  said.  "  But  smashed  up  quite  a 
lot,  too.  I  don't  know  just  how  much  —  but  so  he 
won't  have  the  strength  in  it  to  race  on  one  of  those 
domned  things  again." 

"  How  about  working —  at  a  trade,  in  a  shop?  " 

"  They  tell  me  he  can  do  it,  after  awhile." 

"  You  ought  to  be  glad,  then,"  I  said,  "  if  it'll 
get  him  into  something  regular,  out  of  that  devilish 
racing." 

"  I  am,"  said  Old  Tom.  "  But  his  mother  is 
most!  " 


194     The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

"  What's  he  going  to  do?  "  I  asked  him. 

"  That's  what  I  was  going  to  ask  you  about,"  said 
Tom,  standing  over  on  his  other  foot.  "  His  mother 
wanted  me  to  ask  you  if  he  couldn't  come  around  and 
see  you  after  he  gets  out  of  the  hospital." 

"  Sure,"  said  I.  "  Send  him  around.  If  I've  got 
anything  I  can  give  him,  he'll  get  it.  I  got  him  into 
the  thing;  I  ought  to  be  willing  to  help  to  get  him 
out. 

"How's  he  turned  out?"  I  asked  the  old  man. 
"  What  kind  of  a  boy's  he  been?  " 

"  He'd  been  better  off  if  he'd  not  seen  this  racing 
game,"  he  told  me.  "  It's  not  been  extra  good  for 
him.  He's  seen  too  much  of  the  high  life.  And 
got  too  much  for  doing  nothing  —  the  way  I  see 
it." 

!<  Well,  maybe  he'll  steady  up  now,"  said  I. 
"  And  it  might  be  just  the  thing  to  start  him  in  the 
shop  like  the  rest  of  us  did.  That  mightn't  be  a  bad 
idea,  might  it?  " 

"  No,  sir,"  said  Tom.  "  I  wish  you'd  get  him  to 
do  it." 

"  Send  him  around,  anyhow  —  when  he's  ready," 
said  I.  "  I'm  pretty  busy  myself,  now,  but  the  first 
minute  I  can,  I'll  see  him." 

I  was  still  out  to  do  what  I  could  for  him.  And  I 
felt  that  way  when  he  got  out  of  the  hospital  and 
came  around  to  see  me  in  my  new  office. 

'  They  said  you  wanted  to  see  me,"  he  started  out, 
coming  in,  dressed  up  very  slick,  and  sitting  down, 
looking  at  me. 

I  didn't  take  much  of  a  fancy  to  him,  or  the  way 


An  Early  Creditor  195 

he  went  at  it.  '  Well,  yes,"  I  said,  passing  it  over. 
"  How  are  you?  " 

11  Oh,  I'm  all  right" 

"  Just  where  did  you  hurt  yourself?  " 

"  I  got  it  where  the  old  man  did,"  he  told  me. 
11  The  right  hand." 

"  How  is  it  —  good  enough  to  go  to  work  yet?  " 

'  That  depends,"  said  he,  looking  up  at  me  and 
down  again.  "  What  work?  " 

I  didn't  care  for  his  cut  much,  any  more.  He 
was  a  good  looking  boy  —  on  the  surface  —  too 
much  so.  And  dressed  up,  like  a  clothing  ad.  He 
looked  too  good  to  me.  A  good  looking  boy  with  a 
bad  eye.  One  of  those  wise  ones  you  see  roosting 
around  in  front  of  the  garages  —  dressed  up,  paring 
their  nails,  and  goggling  at  the  servant  girls.  Look- 
ing down  when  you  go  by,  and  looking  up  and  staring 
at  your  back  when  you're  gone.  Hating  everybody 
that's  got  a  dollar,  on  general  principles,  and  trying 
to  figure  out  how  they  can  get  a  few  dollars  of  easy 
money  themselves  without  getting  their  fingers  dirty. 
I  know  the  breed,  better  than  they  know  themselves. 
Seeing  other  people  with  money  close  to,  all  the 
time,  makes  them  all  the  time  dissatisfied. 

I  didn't  care  much  for  the  way  he  acted,  but  I  told 
him  what  I  could  do  for  him  in  the  shop.  I  was 
going  to  give  him  that  —  as  I  told  his  father.  And 
then,  if  he  made  good,  I  would  push  him  along. 

But  I  could  see  right  away  it  didn't  suit  him. 

"You  haven't  got  an  agency,  somewhere?"  he 
asked  me,  looking  up.  He  kept  his  eyes  down 
mostly,  but  when  he  wanted  to,  he  looked  up  and 


196     The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

looked  at  you  with  this  hard  expression,  afraid  of 
nothing  on  God's  earth. 

"  No.  Not  this  minute,"  I  came  back,  getting  a 
little  sore  at  his  nerve,  asking  it;  but  still  holding  on 
to  myself.  "  But  what's  the  matter  with  your  start- 
ing here  in  the  shop  the  way  the  rest  of  us  had  to  ? 
Would  your  hand  prevent  you  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  whether  it  would  or  not.  It 
might.  How  much  is  there  in  it?  "  he  said,  looking 
up  again. 

And  I  told  him. 

"Ah-hah,"  he  said.  "Well,  I  guess  that  ain't 
my  line.  I  could  make  more  than  that  as  a  chauf- 
feur, if  I  had  to."  And  he  got  up  and  brushed  some 
imaginary  dust  off  his  tailormade  clothes. 

4  You're  pretty  particular,  ain't  you?  "  said  I,  get- 
ting hot  under  the  collar,  finally. 

"  What  I  thought  you  were  going  to  offer  me,"  he 
said,  not  turning  a  hair,  "  was  an  agency.  That's 
more  my  line." 

I  was,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  later,  when  I  had  one  — 
if  he  worked  out  all  right.  But  I  wouldn't  say  so  to 
him. 

"  If  I  wanted  to,"  I  said,  still  holding  myself  down 
all  I  was  able,  "  I  couldn't  very  well  give  you  one  till 
I  had  one  vacant!  " 

"  I  can  wait,"  he  said,  staring  up  again. 

;'  Well,  you'll  wait  a  damned  long  time,"  I  said, 
letting  loose  a  little,  "  if  you  turn  this  job  down  now, 
before  you'll  get  another  job  from  us." 

'  There  are  other  places  on  earth,"  he  said,  and 
started  to  move  off  — "  at  that." 


An  Early  Creditor  197 

"  You  got  that  right,"  said  I.  "  There's  no  law 
to  compel  you  to  come  here  —  or  us  to  hire  you 
either!" 

u  Let  me  ask  you  something,"  he  said  to  me,  turn- 
ing back  a  minute — "  for  a  change!  " 

"What  is  it?" 

"  Are  you  the  man,"  he  asked  me  then,  staring 
with  that  damned  insolent,  ugly  look  in  his  eyes 
— "  are  you  the  man  that  always  talked  so  loud  about 
paying  his  debts  —  to  his  friends  and  his  enemies?  " 

"  I  generally  manage  to,"  I  said,  still  holding  back 
all  I  could.  "Why?" 

"  Oh,  nothing,"  he  said.  "  I  just  wanted  to  hear 
you  say  it  again.  That's  all." 

"  I'll  say  it  again,  all  right,"  I  said  to  him,  "  as 
many  times  as  you  want.  You  may  find  it  out  yet 
too.  I  pay  my  debts  to  my  friends  and  my  enemies ! 
But  paying  up  my  friends  don't  include  handing  over 
easy  money  to  cheap  young  cigarette  bearers  and 
clothing  advertisements  to  sun  their  shapes  around 
on  the  corners,  when  they  ought  to  be  at  work  like 
the  rest  of  the  folks." 

"  Yeh,"  he  said.  "  You're  like  all  the  rest  of 
them.  When  they've  got  a  couple  of  hundred  thou- 
sand, they  always  get  the  idea  they  were  the  ones  that 
taught  God  how  to  turn  on  the  sun. 

"  Easy  money,"  he  said,  looking  at  me,  with  a 
nasty  smile  on  his  face.  "God!  I  suppose  you 
think  you  got  a  patent  on  it." 

'  That'll  do  for  you,"  said  I.  "  For  some  time. 
If  you  hadn't  been  so  cocky,  I  had  it  all  fixed  up  for 
something  good  for  you.  But  no,  that  wouldn't  do 


198    The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

you.  You  couldn't  soil  your  hands  in  a  machine 
shop  —  not  for  a  minute.  You're  the  wise  boy,  out 
for  easy  money.  You  know  the  patent,  that's  a  sure 
thing.  You  know  just  how  it's  done  —  like  all  the 
rest  of  your  kind  that  breed  around  gasoline  the  last 
ten  years,  like  mosquito  wrigglers  in  old  rain  water. 
But  that  lets  me  out.  You're  all  right;  you  know  so 
much  about  easy  money,  you  can  get  all  you  want 
yourself.  You  don't  have  to  come  around  here 
again,  asking  me  for  any  of  it.  All  you  have  to  do 
is  to  go  out  and  pick  it  up  for  yourself." 

"  Don't  worry,"  he  said,  throwing  me  another 
ugly  look.  And  then  he  went  along  out. 

I  didn't  think  much  about  him  again  till  Pasc  and 
his  wife  came  back  in  the  spring  from  California.  I 
used  to  see  him  sometimes,  hanging  around  the 
garage,  but  we  didn't  look  at  each  other.  He  was 
around  there  —  looking  and  criticizing  and  keeping 
his  mouth  shut,  and  dressed  up  regardless;  playing 
the  hero  to  the  rest  of  those  bottle-shaped  boys,  and 
every  fool  cheap  girl  in  town  who  had  money  enough 
to  buy  a  pair  of  long  white  shoes. 

I  was  out  in  Chicago  in  the  spring,  looking  over 
the  agency,  when  Pasc  and  Zetta  were  coming  back, 
and  got  on  to  my  sleeper  in  the  Chicago  station. 

'  Why,  hello,"  said  somebody  back  of  me. 
"  Look  who's  here !  "  And  there  was  Zetta  —  in  a 
big  yellow  hat,  and  a  kind  of  yellow  and  black  gown 
—  dressed  up  to  kill,  coming  back  from  those  south- 
ern California  hotels. 

"  Hello,  where  did  you  come  from?  "  said  I;  and 
grabbed  both  her  hands,  when  she  held  them  out  to 


An  Early  Creditor  199 

me.  And  nearly  shook  Pasc's  arm  off  when  he  came 
back  in.  And  we  three  visited  all  the  evening,  until 
the  porter  wanted  to  make  up  the  berths. 

"  Well,  Pasc,"  I  said,  sitting  down  with  them.  "  I 
believe  you're  looking  better." 

"  He  is,"  said  Zetta.  "  I'm  the  one  that's  all 
done  up.  I'm  coming  home  to  see  if  I  can  get  over 
this  trip." 

"  You  don't  look  tired  —  to  me,"  I  said. 
"  You're  looking  slick." 

'  Tired,  no !  I'm  coming  home  for  some  excite- 
ment." 

"  Excitement  — "  I  said,  watching  her,  "  after 
traveling  all  over  the  world  !  " 

"  Excitement,"  she  said.     "  Yep,  and  a  divorce!  " 

"A  divorce,  eh?" 

'  Yep,  Bill,"  she  said.  "  I'm  a  wronged  and  de- 
serted wife." 

And  Pasc  grinned  one  of  those  still  old  grins  again. 

"  Pasc,"  I  said.  "  I  wouldn't  have  thought  it  of 
you." 

"  Yes,"  said  Zetta,  rattling  on.  "  I've  got  the 
co-respondent  all  picked  out.  You've  heard  about 
these  stenographers,"  she  said,  "  and  these  wicked 
business  men.  Well,  I've  got  a  new  one.  I'm  go- 
ing to  name  his  carburetor. 

"  And  I'll  get  my  divorce,  all  right,  too.  Any 
judge  will  give  it  to  me  that  hears  my  story  once." 

Pasc  grinned  again,  when  she  was  saying  it,  but  a 
little  sheepish;  and  her  voice  sounded  just  a  little 
sharp  and  jangly.  You  could  see  there  was  some 
sore  spot  in  back  of  that  fooling. 


200     The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

"  I'll  tell  it  to  you,  Bill,"  she  said,  "  so  you  can  see 
it  for  yourself.  For  six  months,"  she  went  along, 
"  I've  been  in  this  humiliating  thing  —  traveling 
along  all  over  with  him  and  his  carburetor.  It 
started  in  at  Yellowstone  Park. 

"  Honest,"  she  said.  "  And  I  leave  it  to  him  to 
say  I'm  right.  He  stayed  inside  the  hotel  prac- 
tically all  the  time  we  were  there  in  the  Park.  He 
couldn't  tell  you  now  whether  El  Capitan  was  a 
name  of  a  saloon  or  a  hot  spring." 

"  I  just  happened  to  have  an  idea  come  to  me,  as 
I  got  there,"  said  Pasc  to  me,  looking  foolish  again. 

;' What'd  you  do,  in  the  meanwhile?"  I  asked 
his  wife,  laughing. 

"Do!  What  could  I  do?  I  let  him  alone, 
finally,  with  his  carburetor.  And  I  found  the  best 
looking  guide  I  could,  and  went  out  riding  with  him, 
all  over.  I  had  the  finest  horse !  "  she  said,  looking 
up.  "  That  was  the  one  thing  for  me,  in  the  whole 
trip.  I  haven't  had  so  much  fun  since  I  was  a  kid. 

"  But  honest,"  she  said,  "  you  don't  know  what 
it  is,  Bill,  traveling  alone  for  months  with  a  man  — 
who  can't  see  anything  day  and  night,  but  a  little 
brass  carburetor  —  in  back  of  his  eyes  somewhere." 

"Didn't  you  get  acquainted  at  the  hotels?"  I 
asked  her. 

"  A  lot  of  stall-fed  women,"  she  said,  "  sitting  on 
the  piazzas.  And  a  bunch  of  old  knee-sprung  men, 
so  worn  out  and  feeble  their  legs  knock  together 
when  they  were  dancing.  No  life  left  in  them  — 
or  they  wouldn't  be  there.  Just  like  all  these  pleas- 
ure hotels  —  they're  all  alike  as  far  as  I  can  see  — 


An  Early  Creditor  201 

a    combination    of   old    folks'    home    and   nursery. 

"  But  I  did  learn  the  new  dances,"  she  said. 
"That's  one  thing!" 

"Did  you  teach  them  to  Pasc?"  I  asked  her, 
laughing. 

"  No,"  she  said.  "  He  only  dances  with  his  car- 
buretor! "  And  laughed  a  kind  of  harsh,  flat  laugh 
again. 

"  And  of  course,"  she  said,  "  nobody  danced  much 
with  me  either.  Why  would  they?  If  a  woman 
can't  get  her  husband  to  pay  her  any  attention,  it's 
not  much  of  an  advertisement  for  her." 

'  You  had  enough  attention,  I  should  say,  from 
different  ones,  to  satisfy  most  any  woman,"  said 
Pasc. 

"  There's  one  other  thing,"  she  said,  "  I  did  get 
out  of  my  trip.  I  learned  to  drive  a  car.  There 
was  a  young  fellow  at  the  hotel  with  a  runabout  that 
showed  me  how.  And  I'm  going  right  home,  and 
I'm  going  to  buy  the  fastest  one  they  make.  There's 
nothing  like  it.  You  can  take  off  your  hat,  and  put 
down  the  wind  shield  —  and  go !  There's  nothing 
like  it;  you  can  forget  everything  else  in  the  world  — 
just  go!  " 

I  had  to  smile  at  her  —  and  Pasc  with  me  — 
watching  her  eyes  flash  all  of  a  sudden. 

1  You'll  have  to  look  out  for  her,  Pasc,"  I  said; 
"  she's  got  the  speed  bug!  " 

"  She  has.     Bad,"  he  told  me. 

And  after  that  —  speaking  of  driving  —  we  got 
talking  about  that  Chuck  Powers.  They'd  heard 
about  that  accident  of  his  when  they  were  out  in  Los 


202     The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

Angeles.  It  was  getting  to  be  a  center  for  motor 
cycle  racing  about  that  time. 

"  Wasn't  it  a  shame,"  said  Zetta.  "  An  awful 
thing !  Just  think  of  it.  They  say  he  was  the  best 
motor  cycle  rider  on  the  track  —  in  this  country,  if 
not  in  the  whole  world.  And  that  means  he  went 
the  fastest  —  drove  the  fastest  thing  in  the  world, 
faster  than  anybody  has  ever  gone,  except  maybe 
that  Englishman!  Think  of  the  nerve  it  took,  and 
courage!  Think  of  the  excitement  of  doing  it! 
And  now  he's  got  to  stop,  entirely.  Just  that  young 
fellow!" 

"  Well,"  I  said,  "  it  looks  to  me  worse  than  that. 
It  looks  to  me  as  if  it  had  spoiled  him  entirely  for 
doing  anything  else." 

And  I  told  them  about  my  experience  with  them. 

"  But  why  didn't  you  do  it?  "  Zetta  said  to  me 
right  away,  when  I  told  her  how  he'd  held  me  up  — 
and  what  he  wanted.  "  Why  didn't  you  give  him  an 
agency,  if  he  wanted  it?  " 

"  How  could  I,"  I  came  back  at  her,  "  when  there 
wasn't  any  vacancy?  " 

;'  Why  didn't  you  make  a  vacancy,  thea?  " 

"  And  throw  another  man  out?  " 

"  Sure.     I  would,"  she  said. 

"  You  would,  I  believe,"  I  told  her.  "  There's  a 
woman's  idea  of  business,"  I  said  to  Pasc,  a  little 
miffed. 

"  Sure  I  would.  If  I  owed  anybody  what  we  owe 
to  him,"  said  Zetta. 

'  Well,  if  you  want  to  know,"  I  said,  getting  a 
little  huffy,  "  I'd  have  had  something  better  for  him 


An  Early  Creditor  203 

before  he  got  through,  if  he  hadn't  been  quite  so 
cocky  about  it. 

"  But  since  then,"  I  said,  defending  myself,  "  I've 
been  just  as  well  pleased  that  I  didn't  do  any  differ- 
ent than  I  did.  I  had  him  looked  up  afterwards  — 
and  I  don't  want  him.  I  wouldn't  have  him  at  any 
price,  around  handling  agency  funds." 

"  Why  not?  "  Zetta  wanted  to  know. 

"Too  much  high  life  —  that  racing  life  was  too 
much  for  him.  I  found  that  out  later." 

"  But  he  couldn't  drink,"  said  Zetta,  "  a  rider,  at 
those  speeds." 

"  No,  that  wasn't  it." 

"  What  was  it  then?  "  she  came  back. 

"  The  women,  if  you  want  to  know!  "  I  told  her. 

"  Well,"  she  said,  thinking,  "  he  was  a  handsome 
boy." 

"Too  darned  handsome,"  I  said.  "And  too 
much  of  a  regular  devil." 

"  I  don't  believe  it,  anyhow !  "  she  said  to  me  all 
at  once. 

"  Believe  it  or  not;  that's  his  reputation !  And  all 
the  money  he's  got  has  gone  somewhere,  that's  sure. 
He's  standing  around  there  now,  in  his  nifty  clothes, 
without  a  cent  left  —  too  swell-headed  to  take  any 
ordinary  job,  and  his  old  mother  feeding  him  at 
home.  Aw,  they  make  me  sick,  this  young  crowd 
that's  coming  up  around  our  business,  looking  for 
easy  money." 

And  the  porter  came  around  about  that  time,  and 
routed  us  out,  and  we  dropped  it.  Zet  went  in  to  get 
ready  for  the  night;  and  Pasc  and  I  went  out  and  sat 


204     The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

up  till  one  o'clock  in  the  smoking  room  and  talked 
business. 

"  What  is  it  you've  been  fussing  over?  "  I  asked 
him.  "  Is  she  right?  Have  you  got  some  new 
wrinkle  on  the  carburetor?  " 

"  Not  yet,"  he  said.  "  I'm  working  over  it.  I've 
got  a  good  idea,  but  it  don't  seem  to  work  out  yet." 

"  You'll  get  it,"  I  told  him.     "  I  bet  on  you." 

"  I  hope  so,"  he  said.  "  It's  wearing  me  thin 
again,  running  me." 

"  Why  don't  you  ever  drop  it,  and  go  at  it  fresh 
sometime,"  I  said  to  him  — "  after  you've  rested." 

"  I  wish  I  could,"  he  said.  "  But  I  ain't  done  so 
bad  this  time,  all  together!  "  And  then  asked  me 
how  Billings  and  I  were  getting  on  in  the  business. 

"Oh,  all  right,  I  guess,"  I  told  him.  "Yes  — 
we're  making  a  lot  of  money.  But  it  ain't  like  the 
old  days,  Pasc,  when  you  and  I  were  there." 

"  I  think  he  generally  means  to  do  the  fair  busi- 
ness thing,  in  his  way,"  said  Pasc. 

"  Well,  maybe,"  I  told  him.  "  Maybe  that's  the 
way  they  have  to  be  when  they're  trained  the  way 
he's  been.  But  try  my  damndest,  I  can't  like  him. 
Down  at  the  bottom  of  my  heart,  I  don't  ever  trust 
him.  I'm  afraid  of  him.  He's  always  sitting  there 
cooking  up  something.  Some  new  sleight  of  hand 
to  pull  your  money  out  of  his  sleeve. 

"  It's  different  entirely,"  I  told  Pasc,  "  from  the 
old  days.  We're  only  together  —  Billings  and  I  — 
hunting  dollars,  that's  all.  It's  dog  eat  dog.  He 
knows  it,  and  I  know  it.  And  that's  all  there  is  to 
it!" 


An  Early  Creditor  205 

And  then  I  went  on  and  told  him  about  that  rear- 
rangement of  the  stock  we  were  working  out  then 
—  that  I  was  worrying  and  puzzling  over  about  that 
time. 


CHAPTER  XVII 


Proctor  Billings  had  called  me  around  to  the  bank 
about  a  month  before  that. 

"  I  believe,"  he  said,  sitting  there,  "  the  time  is 
about  right  for  refinancing." 

He  had  a  new  style  now;  he  smoked  all  his 
cigarettes  in  a  holder,  sticking  out  about  a  foot  from 
his  face.  He  couldn't  stand  it  to  touch  a  bare  ciga- 
rette with  his  lips  any  longer.  And  beside  him  on 
his  desk  always,  he  had  the  fresh  flowers  from  his 
conservatory.  All  elegance  and  la-de-da  and  lovely 
cut  flowers  on  the  outside;  and  inside,  about  a  half 
an  inch,  colder  and  harder  than  the  ice  that's  been 
piling  up  at  the  North  Pole  for  the  last  five  million 
years.  I  had  to  smile  to  myself,  watching  him. 

"  I  believe,"  he  said,  in  that  nice  particular  way  he 
had  when  he  was  pleased  with  the  way  things  were 
going,  "  I  believe  we  could  begin  to  start  to  move 
towards  some  more  permanent  basis  of  capitalization 
than  we  are  on  now.  It  would  be  better  for  both  of 
us.  I  could  get  rid  of  the  burden  of  the  financing; 
and  you,"  he  said,  with  his  carefully  measured  smile, 
"  could  get  out  finally  from  under  this  control  of  the 
company  I've  had  while  I'm  furnishing  the  money." 

"  I  could  stand  that  —  too,"  I  told  him. 

"  I  imagined  so,"  he  said.     "  And  I  could  stand 


A  Little  Something  on  the  Side       207 

myself  getting  some  of  my  money  back,  and  getting 
my  own  credit  straightened  out.  Money's  pretty 
easy,"  said  Billings,  explaining.  "  And  they've  been 
putting  out  quite  a  variety  of  automobile  stock  with 
more  or  less  success.  A  good  many  of  them  with  not 
such  good  prospects,  or  earning  so  much  as  ours! 
There's  something  like  a  little  boom  in  that  line  of 
stock;  and  for  my  part,  I'm  in  favor  of  taking  ad- 
vantage of  it  to  start  in  the  direction  of  turning  this 
thing  of  ours  into  a  little  money." 

"  Cash  in,  eh?  "  I  told  him.  "  Well,  you've  got 
me  with  you  there.  Go  the  limit.  Go  after  itl  " 

'  You  mean  that?  "  he  said. 

"  You  bet  I  do,"  I  answered  him. 

And  then  he  told  me  his  idea. 

"  I  believe,"  he  said,  "  the  only  way  to  do  with  a 
thing  like  this  is  go  straight  to  New  York  and  do  it 
right  in  the  beginning,  with  the  really  big  people. 

"  You  can  go  up  to  Hartford,  of  course,  or  any 
smaller  place.  But  their  market  for  securities  is  only 
small  and  local;  they'd  have  to  go  to  New  York 
themselves  anyhow.  And  my  idea  has  always  been 
to  go  yourself  to  New  York  —  right  down  to  the  big 
banks  yourself.  The  only  danger  is,"  he  said, 
"they're  so  big!  " 

"  Ah-ha,"  I  said,  and  shut  up.  I  wasn't  showing 
my  hand  much.  That  Wall  Street  game  was  some- 
thing new  and  strange  to  me,  but  naturally  I  wasn't 
telling  him  so. 

'  They're  big,"  he  said,  "  and  they're  sharp. 
And  a  thing  like  this  is  only  a  mouthful  for  them. 
They  might  eat  us  right  up,  if  you  don't  look  out  for 


208    The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

them.  But  on  the  other  hand,  they've  got  the 
machinery  to  take  care  of  you  simply  and  easily. 
And  you've  got  to  go  to  them  anyhow,  probably;  if 
you  don't  the  smaller  people  will,  very  likely.  The 
best  thing,  I  always  thought,  was  to  go  right  to  them 
in  the  first  place  yourself.  There's  no  more 
danger." 

"Go  ahead,"  I  said;  "if  they  don't  scare  you, 
they  don't  me." 

I  had  been  watching  that  banking  business  some 
myself  —  there  in  his  bank.  Billings  had  just  made 
me  a  director  there.  He  ought  to;  we  were  the 
second  largest  business  in  it.  But  while  I  was 
around  the  place,  I  kept  my  eyeballs  busy  watching 
him  and  those  other  fellows  with  capital  he  had  with 
him  operate  it  —  poking  around,  grabbing  off  the 
cream  of  everything  around  town.  I  had  a  little 
thing  myself  by  this  time,  that  I  had  an  idea  I  would 
have  a  try  at  along  that  line.  I  was  working  on  it 
when  Billings  went  down  to  see  those  New  Yorkers. 
I  didn't  know  how  I  was  going  to  do  it,  but  there 
is  nothing  like  trying,  to  get  your  hand  in. 

"  How'd  you  come  out  with  him?  "  I  asked  Bil- 
lings, when  he  came  back  from  New  York. 

"  I  rather  think  they'll  take  it  up,"  he  told  me,  "  on 
some  sort  of  an  issue  of  preferred  stock." 

"  Good  business,"  I  said,  thinking  first  of  getting 
the  company  out  once  on  its  own  feet,  free  of  that 
control  of  his  over  it  for  furnishing  the  money. 
Tickled  to  death  of  being  my  own  man  finally,  and 
getting  the  chance  at  the  same  time  to  cash  in  on 
my  stock.  I  thought  then,  too,  I  might  maybe  get 


A  Little  Something  on  the  Side       209 

this  little  thing  I  was  thinking  of  into  the  new  deal 
somehow,  if  I  could  work  it.  And  cash  in  a  little 
something  on  the  side. 

"  Fine  business,"  I  said  to  Billings,  feeling  pretty 
pleased  over  what  he  was  doing,  but  knowing  I'd  got 
to  watch  him,  just  the  same.  '  That's  the  stuff,"  I 
said,  slapping  him  on  the  back.  "  Go  after  it,  boy." 

He  didn't  know  what  to  do  with  himself  when  I 
did  anything  like  that.  It  made  him  jump  all  over. 
I  did  it  half  for  deviltry.  What  did  I  care?  I 
wasn't  afraid  of  him  now.  I  knew  he'd  have  to  put 
up  with  it,  anyhow,  as  long  as  we  were  making  good 
so. 

So  then  I  went  to  work  on  that  little  deal  of  mine, 
right  away,  seeing  what  I  could  do  with  it. 

There  was  this  little  old  shop  that  had  made 
spokes  for  us  —  way  back  in  the  old  bicycle  business, 
and  had  kept  right  along  with  us,  selling  the  stuff  ever 
since.  I'd  been  watching  it  for  some  time.  I 
thought  I  could  get  a  hold  of  it  at  first,  and  see  if  I 
couldn't  make  a  dollar  out  of  it  myself.  But  now  I 
thought:  "Here's  a  chance  to  get  it  and  work  it 
into  this  new  concern  of  ours,  if  it  goes  through  — 
as  a  side  issue  in  this  new  stock  deal."  So  I  tackled 
it  between  times  —  at  luncheon  mostly. 

I  used  to  see  young  Allen,  who  had  the  old  place 
with  his  father,  when  he  was  in  at  Lembach's, 
where  a  good  many  of  us  used  to  go  at  noon  on  ac- 
count of  their  cooking  —  that  good  old  substantial 
German  cooking  there,  and  their  beer.  They  had 
the  best  Wurtzburger  in  town.  I  met  young  Allen 
there,  and  at  the  Elks'  rooms,  when  we  both  hap- 


210    The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

pened  to  be  in  there  together.  And  I  got  him  to 
talking  now  and  then.  I  knew  his  old  man,  who 
really  owned  the  place,  was  getting  through  pretty 
quick  —  kind  of  old  and  not  very  well.  And  I 
knew  as  well  as  I  wanted  to  that  Charley,  the  son, 
would  just  as  soon  get  loose  for  once  in  his  life,  and 
get  out  of  overalls,  and  drive  an  auto  around,  and 
see  what  the  world  looked  like  on  the  other  side  of 
those  grimy  old  machine-shop  windows,  from  seven 
A.  M.  to  six  p.  M.  So  finally  I  worked  an  option  out 
of  them.  Then  I  went  to  Billings. 

When  I  told  him  about  it,  he  was  a  lot  easier  than 
I  thought  he  would  be.  I  thought  maybe  he'd  want 
to  be  let  in  on  it  himself.  But  there  was  nothing  like 
that  came  out  at  all,  when  I  brought  it  up.  He  let 
me  go  on  and  explain  it  all  out. 

"  Can  it  be  worked?  "  I  said.  "  Do  you  suppose 
I  can  fix  it  to  bring  it  in  on  that  new  deal.  It  would 
be  a  good  thing,  all  right,  for  the  company." 

"  I  wouldn't  be  surprised  at  all,"  he  said. 
"  Especially,"  he  went  on,  watching  his  cigarette, 
"  as  I  shall  have  something  of  the  same  kind  to 
offer." 

"Which?  "I  said. 

"  Bringing  in  my  factory  some  way  into  the  thing." 

"  Giving  up  the  lease,  and  buying  it  in  for  the  com- 
pany? " 

"  That's  it,"  he  said. 

"Why  not?"  said  I,  thinking.  "Certainly. 
One  hand  washes  the  other.  We'll  bring  the  both 
of  them  in  —  on  this  preferred  stock  thing.  And 
both  of  us  make  a  legitimate  dollar  on  it.  All 


A  Little  Something  on  the  Side       211 

right,"  I  said.  "You  go  ahead,  will  you?  See 
what  you  can  do  I  " 

I  knew  then,  of  course,  I'd  have  to  keep  my  eyes 
peeled  with  him,  and  this  New  York  crowd  too. 

And  so  he  went  down  and  talked  it  over  with 
these  New  Yorkers  and  come  back  and  told  me  what 
he  thought  he  could  do.  And  we  worked  some  more 
on  it  together. 

They  were  going  to  put  out  seven  hundred  thou- 
sand dollars  more  preferred  stock,  besides  what  Pasc 
Thomas  had,  making  a  million  in  all.  There  was 
two  hundred  thousand  dollars  of  the  old  preferred 
stock  in  the  treasury;  and  they  would  issue  five  hun- 
dred thousand  new.  Of  course,  this  wouldn't  have 
any  voting  power  in  the  corporation.  It  left  that 
just  where  it  was  in  the  common  stock.  The  main 
issue,  of  course,  between  Billings  and  me  to  settle 
was  the  price  of  our  two  new  things  in  it. 

We  finally  agreed  that  he  would  have  one  hundred 
and  fifty  thousand  dollars  of  the  seven  hundred  thou- 
sand dollars  of  new  preferred  for  his  factory;  and 
I'd  get  a  hundred  and  twenty-five  thousand  for  my 
thing.  That  worked  us  out  a  good  fair  profit. 
Then  the  rest  of  the  preferred  —  that  didn't  go  as 
commission  to  the  New  Yorkers  —  would  clear  up 
our  debts,  give  us  money  for  our  finances,  and  set 
us  free  finally  out  of  Billings's  control. 

That's  what  made  me  stick  up  my  head  in  the  air 
and  snort  —  the  idea  of  being  free  again;  more,  a 
hundred  times,  of  course,  than  the  little  twenty-five 
or  thirty  thousand  dollars  I  was  expecting  to  clear 
on  that  other  thing.  I  was  feeling  pretty  good  about 


212    The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

that  time  — •  sitting  watching  that  New  York  crowd 
shuffle  the  cards  and  put  the  deal  through.  Watch- 
ing when  I  could  that  machine  of  theirs  at  work. 

"  We're  all  out  after  it,"  I  was  telling  some  of  the 
,boys  in  the  train  I  had  over  to  Lembach's  at  lunch. 
"  They  can  tell  you  something  else.  But  that's 
what  we've  all  got  on  our  minds  nowadays.  Easy 
money  —  quick !  All  of  us,  from  your  slick  crooked 
chauffeur,  lolling,  waiting  for  the  women  shopping, 
at  the  edge  of  a  sidewalk,  to  the  head  of  a  trust  in 
his  mahogany  chair. 

"  But  we're  the  dubs,"  I  was  saying  to  them. 
'  You  and  I.  These  bankers  are  the  boys !  We 
get  up  before  the  dew  stops  falling,  and  hustle  and 
sweat  and  get  covered  with  oil  and  grease  till  the 
stars  come  out.  And  they  drop  down  at  ten  A.  M. 
in  a  limousine  and  sit  there,  and  smoke  their  ciga- 
rettes and  watch  us ;  and  figure  how  they're  going  to 
take  away  what  we've  got  and  turn  it  into  money 
for  themselves.  Talk  about  your  modern  machin- 
ery," I  said.  "They've  got  the  machine  for  you! 
A  regular  machine  for  manufacturing  money.  They 
don't  have  to  make  or  sell  anything  to  get  it.  They 
just  make  their  money  direct. 

"  I've  been  watching,"  I  told  them,  "  for  the  last 
year  or  two  in  this  town.  And  I  know  something 
about  them  —  about  their  machine,  and  how  they 
work  it.  And  it's  a  beaut!  Take  it  from  your 
Uncle  Bill.  They've  got  their  eyes  out  everywhere 
in  this  town;  nothing  gets  by  them.  They've  got  a 
regular  system  of  watching,  through  the  banks  and 
each  other ;  they  know  everything  that  comes  up  and 


A  Little  Something  on  the  Side      213 

looks  good  in  town.  And  when  it  gets  ripe,  they're 
there  to  pick  it  —  on  the  dot.  They  step  right  up, 
some  way,  and  declare  themselves  in." 

"  I  guess  there's  something  in  that,"  said  this  fel- 
low that  was  with  me  —  old  Piggy  Briggs. 

"  You  bet  your  life  there  is,"  I  told  him.  "  You 
know  it  as  well  as  I  do.  I  used  to  think  it  was 
something  pretty  soft  —  some  pretty  big  money !  " 

"  It  might  strike  some  of  the  rest  of  us  that  way, 
right  now,"  said  this  other  man  —  this  other  fellow 
that  was  with  us. 

"  Pretty  fair,"  I  said,  "  at  that,  for  ordinary  folks. 
But  I've  got  a  look  in,  lately,  on  a  new  thing  — 
something  that  makes  these  fellows  here  look  like 
thirty  cents  in  the  Waldorf  Astoria.  I've  got  a 
squint  on  these  million  dollar  boys  from  New  York 
—  these  Wall  Street  bankers." 

"  Tell  us  about  them,  quick,"  said  Briggsy. 

"  You  know  as  much  as  I  do,  probably,"  I  said 
to  them  — "  up-to-date.  We  all  know  about  the 
same.  Only  this  — "  I  said.  "  I  know  this.  I 
know  they've  got  a  machine  stretching  all  over  this 
country,  that  makes  this  thing  here  look  like  nothing. 

"  You  know  what  you've  got  to  run  up  against  in 
business,  getting  money,"  I  told  them  — "  always. 
Well,  I  used  to  think  at  first  it  was  just  myself,  not 
getting  in  right  to  get  them  to  lend  me  money  —  just 
what  you'd  got  to  expect  to  run  against  naturally  in 
any  town,  where  they  have  a  big  strong  bank.  But, 
oh,  no,  it's  nothing  like  that!  I  got  a  look  into  i: 
lately,  working  up  a  little  stock  deal.  This  thing 
here  in  town  is  nothing  but  one  little  cog  in  a  wheel. 


214    The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

They're  all  meshed  in  together,  all  over  the  country, 
in  this  big  machine  —  this  money  machine  these  fel- 
lows are  running  for  themselves  down  in  New  York. 
You  talk  about  coining  money !  These  fellows  make 
a  million  dollars  every  time  we  pick  up  ten.  You 
ought  to  watch  them  for  a  while.  Oh,  mama ! 
Oh,  what  a  graft !  What  a  machine  they  have  got ! 
They've  got  the  whole  country  watched  that  way, 
like  Billings  and  his  gang  watch  this  town  — 
through  their  banks  and  agents  and  one  thing  and 
another.  They  all  have  to  come  and  bring  their 
stuff  to  them  sooner  or  later,  from  all  over;  to  have 
it  turned  into  dollars.  These  fellows  own  the  only 
machine  for  it.  All  they  have  to  do  is  watch,  and 
hold  us  all  up  and  collect  their  pay  —  three  million 
dollars  apiece  every  afternoon  at  three  o'clock. 

"  Oh,  I've  watched  them  a  little  here  locally, 
boys,"  I  said.  "  I'm  nobody's  damn  fool  if  I  do 
look  it.  I've  watched  them  in  operation.  And  be- 
lieve me,  one  of  these  days  I'm  going  to  get  my  hand 
in  on  that;  I'm  going  to  have  some  of  that  easy 
money  myself." 

"  Easy  money!  "  said  somebody,  laughing,  "  easy 
money!  What  do  you  know  about  that?  Bill 
Morgan  moaning  about  easy  money?  The  only 
case  on  record  in  the  United  States  of  a  man  who 
sprained  his  back  picking  up  money  out  of  the  road. 
It's  in  all  the  medical  papers." 

And  they  all  began  laughing 

"  Laugh,  if  you  want  to,"  said  I.  "  You  wouldn't 
laugh  so  much,  if  you  had  to  get  up  in  the  morning, 
and  follow  me  around  doing  my  day's  work.  You'd 


A  Little  Something  on  the  Side       215 

be  wind-broken.  Every  one  of  you  fat-handed, 
hotel-fed  loafers.  But  after  this  —  you  hear  me  — 
I'm  going  to  let  up  a  little  and  make  my  money 
easier.  I'm  going  to  get  in  on  this  other  game  now 
and  then.  I've  got  a  little  deal  on  now,"  I  told 
them,  "  just  a  little  starter,  that  looks  good  for  just  a 
little  bit  of  money." 

"  I'll  bet  it's  a  million  dollars,  or  the  old  boy 
wouldn't  stoop  over  to  pick  it  up,"  said  this  man  who 
was  jollying  me,  and  they  all  laughed  again,  down  to 
old  Hansie,  the  waiter. 

"  Laugh,  if  you  want  to,"  I  told  them.  "  Go  on. 
I  might  have  my  million  some  day  at  that.  But 
whether  I  do  or  not,  I'm  going  to  take  a  crack  at  this 
game  these  still-faced  bank  boys  are  doing.  It's  the 
biggest  thing  in  the  country,  and  I'm  going  to  learn 
it  and  get  in  on  it. 

"  I  ain't  afraid  of  them,"  I  said,  u  nor  to  match 
myself  against  them.  None  of  us  at  this  table  need 
to  be,  if  we  ever  got  anywhere  near  an  even  break 
with  them.  Did  you  ever  see  them?  "  I  asked  this 
man.  "  Did  you  ever  know  one  of  these  still-faced 
fellows  in  that  sort  of  thing,  personally?  " 

"  I  don't  know  as  I  have,"  he  told  me  — "  very 
well." 

"  A  queer  breed  of  cats,"  I  said,  seeing  Proctor 
Billings  when  I  said  it.  "  Still-faced  dudes,  la-de-da 
boys,  all  of  them.  They'd  die,  every  one  of  them, 
on  the  spot,  if  they  saw  Charley  Briggs  here,  that 
time  he  was  stewed  in  Chicago,  eating  his  pie  with  his 
knife." 

'  You  lie, I  never  did!  "  said  Charley. 


216    The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

"  Not  a  regular  man  in  the  whole  bunch  of  them," 
I  went  along,  paying  no  attention  to  him.  "  Not  a 
one  of  them  that  ever  got  out  in  a  sand  lot  with  the 
other  boys  and  played  a  game  of  ball  when  they  were 
kids.  They  catch  them  early,"  I  said,  "  on  account 
of  their  fine  complexions;  and  long  white  fingers." 

"  Like  professional  gamblers !  "  said  Charley. 

"  Sure,"  said  I,  "  same  thing!  And  then  they  put 
them  inside  these  banks,  and  train  them  for  years  to 
keep  their  faces  still  —  doing  a  murder !  To  put 
over  some  new  deal,  without  turning  an  eyelash. 
Oh,  you've  got  to  watch  them,"  I  said,  "  every  minute 
of  the  day,  and  have  a  night  watchman  on  them 
nights." 

And  then  I  got  up. 

"  I'm  liable  to  have  to  see  one  this  afternoon,"  I 
said.  And  they  all  laughed.  They  knew  what  I 
meant,  of  course.  And  I  went  out  over  and  saw 
Billings  at  his  bank. 

I  was  feeling  pretty  strong  naturally;  right  up  in 
G  —  with  things  moving  the  way  they  were.  I  had 
been,  ever  since  I'd  seen  I  was  going  to  get  out  from 
that  old  stock-voting  control  of  Billings',  especially; 
ever  since  I'd  seen  I  was  going  to  be  my  own  man 
again,  when  this  financing  was  done. 

"  He  was  just  telephoning  to  you,  I  think,  Mr. 
Morgan,"  said  Billings'  secretary,  when  I  got  there. 
He  was  extra  polite  even  for  him,  it  seemed  to  me. 

And  then  I  went  on  through  that  private  recep- 
tion room,  with  the  polished  woodwork  and  the  little 
pictures  of  sheep  on  the  wall.  I  had  to  smile  when  I 
remembered  that  other  time  I  was  sitting  there  and 


A  Little  Something  on  the  Side       217 

rl  '  "I 

waiting,  shivering  in  my  boots.  And  I  went  along 
into  Billings'  office  and  tapped  once  and  walked  in, 
smoking  my  cigar. 

"  Well,"  I  said,  sitting  down,  "  how's  she  coming? 
What  do  you  hear  from  our  friends  in  New  York?  " 

And  he  handed  me  out  then  their  last  plan,  as 
they'd  finished  it.  He  didn't  say  anything.  He  sat 
still  and  let  me  read  it. 

"  This  is  just  the  same,  ain't  it?  "  said  I.  "  The 
preferred  stock?  " 

"  Exactly,"  he  said. 

"But  what's  this?"  I  said,  turning  the  page. 
"  Here,  this  is  a  new  one !  " 

"  That's  their  addition,"  said  Proctor  Billings. 
"  That's  a  change  they  have  insisted  on." 

"  Insisted  on,"  said  I.     "  What  is  it?  " 

"  At  the  last  minute,"  he  said,  "  they  decided  that 
to  put  it  through,  they  would  have  to  have  that  two 
hundred  thousand  dollars  of  common  stock  in  the 
treasury,  to  give  out  as  a  bonus  to  their  customers  — 
two  to  every  seven  of  preferred." 

"  They've  got  some  nerve !  "  said  I. 

"  Well,  that's  what  they  ask,"  said  Billings,  and 
closed  up  again. 

"I  don't  like  it,  much  —  not  much!"  said  I, 
studying.  "  If  you  ask  me.  And  I'll  — " 

u  I  know,"  he  said.  "  But,  of  course,  you  get 
your  share  of  it  with  your  preferred  in  this  new 
deal." 

'  Yes,"  I  said,  studying  some  more.  "  And  so 
do  you.  And  look  here,"  I  said,  for  it  struck  me 
•then,  naturally,  right  in  the  eyes.  "  Look  here,"  I 


218    The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

said.  "  What's  this?  You  must  think  I'm  a  wise 
boy.  Oh,  no!"  I  said.  "No.  No!  Nothing 
like  this !  You  can't  slip  anything  like  that  over  on 
me! 

"  I  God,"  I  said,  "  that's  certainly  a  raw  one,  even 
for  a  bank  man.  I  suppose,"  I  said,  "  you  thought 
I  wouldn't  see  the  little  joker  in  that." 

"  I  had  nothing  to  do  with  it  whatever,"  he  said, 
getting  white  and  still,  and  extra  polite.  "  It  was 
all  done  in  New  York." 

But  I  didn't  pay  any  attention  to  him.  I  was 
crazy. 

"  Oh,  no,"  I  said.  "  Nothing  like  that.  I'll  bust 
it  all  up  first  —  and  wipe  it  out  all  together. 

"  I  like  this,"  I  said,  getting  madder  and  madder. 
"  Here  I  am,  planning  especially  to  get  out  from 
under  your  control  of  the  company.  We  agree  that 
I'm  going  to  be  my  own  man  for  once  —  just  as  much 
in  the  concern  as  you  are.  No  more  or  no  less. 
And  now  you  spring  this  on  me  the  last  minute. 
When  this  goes  through,  according  to  the  price  you 
set  on  your  building  and  what  I  get  for  mine  on  this 
other  thing,  you'll  have  more  common  stock  than  I 
will.  You'll  have  control  of  the  company  forever!  " 

"  I  told  you  once,"  he  said,  getting  whiter,  and 
lowering  his  voice  way  down,  "  I  had  nothing  to  do 
with  the  arrangement  of  the  thing." 

"  Ah-ha,"  I  said.  "  I  heard  you.  But  it  hands 
you  the  control  just  the  same,  don't  it  —  whoever 
put  it  over.  It  does,  don't  it?  "  I  said,  facing  him 
with  it. 

"  No,"  he  said,  cooler  than  ever,  getting  whiter 


A  Little  Something  on  the  Side      219 

and  colder  —  as  usual,  when  he  got  mad  —  and 
politer  than  polite. 

"  No !  "  he  said.  "  And  now,  if  you  will  kindly 
stop  charging  around  like  a  wild  animal,  I  shall  be 
very  glad  to  discuss  it  with  you.  If  you  act  like  an 
intelligent  man." 

"  You  tell  me  first,"  said  I.  "  Don't  this  give  you 
more  preferred  stock  than  I've  got?  Don't  that 
give  you  absolute  control?  " 

"  Sit  down,"  he  said,  those  polished  steel  eyes  on 
me.  '  That's  what  I'm  trying  to  talk  to  you  about 
—  if  you'll  let  me!" 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

MUTUAL   PROTECTION 

"  The  first  thing  I'd  like  to  ask  you,"  he  said,  look- 
ing at  me,  "  if  you  don't  mind,  is  just  what  your 
attitude  to  this  business  is?  " 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  that,"  I  came  back  at  him. 

"  I  mean  what  are  you  in  it  for,  now,  princi- 
pally?" 

"  That's  a  weird  question  to  ask  a  man,"  said  I. 

"  I  mean  it,"  he  said.     "  I  would  like  to  know." 

"  What  am  I  in  it  for?  "  I  said,  staring  at  him. 
"  What  would  I  be  in  it  for?  What  is  any  man  in 
business  for  —  his  health?  I'm  in  it  for  what  any- 
body else  is,  I  suppose ;  for  the  good  old  stuff  —  the 
spondulax  —  the  iron  man.  I'm  in  it  for  just  what 
you  are  —  what  you  get  out  of  it !  " 

"Then  you'd  sell,  if  you  got  your  price?"  he 
asked  me,  in  that  level  voice,  arranging  a  cigarette 
in  his  long  holder. 

"  Certainly  I  would,  if  I  got  my  price,  wouldn't 
you?" 

"  Oh,  yes,"  he  said,  lighting  up  his  cigarette. 
"  Oh,  yes,  that's  what  I'm  in  here  for  admittedly  — 
to  make  money  pure  and  simple.  To  get  in,  and  get 
out,  when  I  see  a  profit.  But  I  always  thought  you 
might  take  a  different  view  of  it." 

"Different,"  I  said.     "How?" 


Mutual  Protection  221 

"  I've  always  thought,"  he  said,  "  you  might  have 
some  sentiment  about  selling  out." 

"Mel"  I  said.  "Sentiment!  Well,  that's  a 
new  one.  That's  the  first  time  anybody  ever  called 
me  sentimental  yet." 

And  I  stopped  and  laughed.  I  had  to.  '  Well, 
I  guess  not;  not  if  anybody  came  along  once  with  my 
price,"  I  said,  "  he'd  get  my  share  here,  so  quick 
it'd  scare  him." 

"  I'm  glad  to  hear  that  —  personally.  That  sim- 
plifies matters  very  much,"  said  Billings. 

'Why?"  said  I,  stopping  and  looking  at  him, 
wondering  what  he  was  up  to  now.  '  What  is 
this  ?  "  said  I.  "  What's  all  this  got  to  do  with  what 
we've  been  talking  about  —  the  control  of  this  com- 
pany." 

I  thought  he  was  playing  me  off. 

"  Everything  in  the  world,"  said  Billings,  "  as  I 
see  it." 

"  How  do  you  figure  that  out?  " 

"  I  can  show  you  that,  my  friend,"  he  said,  talk- 
ing now  in  that  kind  of  precise  measured  way  he 
talked  sometimes,  when  he  was  getting  over  being 
mad  — "  in  a  very  few  words." 

And  I  sat  and  watched  him  —  close. 
'  You  say  I  will  have  control  here,  with  that  new 
stock  issue,"  he  said.     "  If  you  think  of  it,  you'll  see 
I'll  have  nothing  of  the  kind." 

"  You'll  have  more  stock  than  I  will,"  I  said. 

"  But  not  a  majority,"  he  told  me. 

;' What  difference  does  that  make,  practically?" 
I  said. 


222     The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

"  A  great  deal.  No,  we  will  be  both  in  exactly 
the  same  situation." 

"  I  don't  see  it." 

"  The  same  situation,"  he  repeated  again,  "  and 
the  same  danger!  " 

"What's  that?"  I  asked. 

"  Each  one  will  be  exposed  to  the  other  one's 
selling  out  any  day  to  a  third  party  —  to  somebody 
who  has  picked  up  enough  more  of  that  new  stock  to 
give  him  a  clear  majority." 

"  Or  one  of  us  might  buy  enough  to  control,  him- 
self," said  I,  "  for  that  matter." 

"  Exactly,"  said  Billings. 

"  Well,  we  could  fix  that  by  agreement,"  said  I, 
11 1  should  think." 

"  Yes,"  said  Billings.  "  Yes.  But  the  main  dan- 
ger from  now  on  will  be  that  at  any  time  somebody 
might  come  in  and  offer  a  real  temptation  for  one  or 
the  other  of  us  to  sell  the  other  out." 

"Come  in,"  I  said.  "From  where?  Who'd 
want  to  buy  it?  " 

"  Our  New  York  friends  may,  for  one,"  he  told 
me. 

'  The  ones  financing  this?  " 

4  Yes.  They've  been  getting  into  motor  stocks 
pretty  deep  lately.  Personally,  I  think  they're  going 
deeper.  I  believe,  sooner  or  later,  they're  going  to 
make  a  great  consolidation  of  motors,"  he  told  me, 
when  I  asked  him  what  it  was.  "And  if  they  do,  I 
believe  they  could  use  our  product  to  advantage. 
That's  just  a  guess  on  my  part,  of  course,"  he  told 
me.  "  But  it's  a  good  fair  guess.  And  whether  it 


Mutual  Protection  223 

is  or  not,  whether  we  have  an  offer,  either  you  or  I, 
I  don't  care  myself  for  the  chance  of  it  all  the 
time.  I  don't  know  how  you  may  feel  about  it," 
he  went  on,  "  but  for  my  part  I'm  perfectly  free  to 
say  to  you,  I  don't  care  to  be  in  a  situation  where  you 
or  any  other  man  can  sell  me  out  any  minute.  It 
isn't  good  business.  It's  bad  for  the  nerves." 

"  Amen,"  I  said,  "  I'm  with  you." 

"You  are?"  he  came  back.  "Well,  then,  all 
there  is  to  do  is  to  devise  some  form  of  agreement 
to  cover  the  point  for  both  of  us." 

"  Go  ahead,"  I  told  him. 

"  While  we  are  operating  the  company  together," 
he  said  then,  "  it  will  be  simple  enough.  We  can 
vote  our  stock  together,  with  certain  rights  agreed 
upon  between  us.  We  haven't  had  much  friction 
so  far!" 

"  No,"  I  had  to  admit. 

"  The  difficulty  will  come  up  when  either  of  us 
begins  to  think  of  selling.  That's  the  thing  we  will 
have  to  arrange  between  us  —  for  our  mutual  pro- 
tection. 

"  There  are  several  ways  of  doing  it,  of  course," 
he  told  me.  "  You  could  bind  yourself  not  to  sell 
out  to  a  third  party,  without  first  giving  the  other 
party  to  the  agreement  the  right  to  buy  at  the  same 
figure." 

"  There's  some  objection  to  that,  as  I  understand 
it,  ain't  there?  "  I  said. 

"  There  is,  yes.  It  might  be  difficult  for  the  other 
man  to  raise  the  money  to  buy,  under  certain  condi- 
tions, for  so  large  a  sum  at  any  reasonable  notice." 


224    The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

"  It  might  open  a  hole  for  funny  business,"  I  said, 
"  on  the  price  —  by  a  fake  offer  from  a  third  party, 
for  instance." 

"  It  might,"  he  said.  And  we  both  stopped, 
thinking  it  over. 

"  You  say,"  he  asked  me,  after  a  minute,  "  that 
you  would  sell,  if  you  got  your  price?  " 

"  You  bet,"  said  I. 

"  Have  you  ever  thought,"  he  said,  "  what  your 
price  would  be  —  the  limit?  " 

"  I  don't  know  as  I  have.     Have  you?  " 

"  I've  rather  set  a  mark,"  he  answered,  "  of  what 
I  thought  it  might  be  possible  to  get  out  of  it." 

"What?" 

"A  million  dollars!" 

"For  just  your  own  stock,"  said  I,  sitting  up. 

"  Yes." 

''  Two  million  for  both  of  us !  " 

"  I  believe  it  might  be  possible." 

"  I  don't  believe  you  can  do  it  —  in  a  thousand 
years,"  I  said.  "  I  don't  believe  you  can  come  within 
a  mile  of  it." 

11  Would  you  be  satisfied,"  he  asked  me,  with 
those  still  eyes  of  his,  up  watching  me  again,  "  with 
that  sum  for  your  stock?  " 

"  Would  I  be  satisfied''  I  came  right  back,  "  with 
a  million !  Two  million  for  the  two  of  us !  We'd 
have  a  fat  chance  of  getting  it  I  " 

"  I'm  not  so  sure." 

"  In  cash,  I  mean,  not  just  some  new  stock!  " 

"  That's  what  I  mean,"  he  told  me.  "  If  I  sold 
at  all." 


Mutual  Protection  225 

I  just  laughed  at  him.     It  struck  me  funny. 

"Well,"  he  said  then.  "What  if  we  do  this: 
We  will  pool  the  vote  on  our  stock  while  we're  here 
together." 

"  That's  all  right." 

"  And  agree  for  the  present  that  neither  one  will 
sell  his  share  for  less  than  a  million." 

"  In  other  words,"  I  broke  in,  "  we'll  stick  to- 
gether. We  won't  sell  it  at  all." 

"  You  seem  to  think  so,"  he  said.  "  I'm  not  so 
sure.  But  if  we  both  wanted  to  sell  at  any  time, 
of  course,  on  any  other  basis,  we  could  easily  agree 
to  do  it,"  he  went  on.  We  were  getting  down  to 
business  now.  He  had  cut  out  the  frills  —  and  his 
face  was  as  still  as  the  old  man's  in  the  oil  painting 
over  him.  I  was  getting  busy  myself,  following  to 
see  where  his  mind  was  going. 

'  That's  right,"  I  told  him.  I  couldn't  see  any  out 
in  that. 

"  Of  course,"  he  went  along,  and  smiled  a  small 
smile,  "  if  we  did  sell  for  that  two  million,  either 
one  or  the  other  of  us  would  have  to  do  the  selling." 

"  It  won't  be  me,"  I  said.  "  That  ain't  my  line 
just  this  minute." 

"  I  do  offer  more  chances  along  that  line,  I  sup- 
pose," he  said. 

"  I'm  willing  to  admit  that,"  I  told  him,  "  always. 
You'll  handle  it  if  anybody  does  in  this  combination. 
Go  on,"  I  said,  laughing  again.  '  Try  it.  I'd  like 
to  see  you. 

"  But  there's  one  thing  more,"  I  said,  stopping 
short 


226     The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

"What?" 

"  Whoever  sells  it  —  whether  you  do  or  I  do,  the 
other  man's  got  to  get  exactly  the  same  price  for  the 
stock  as  the  seller  does.  That'll  be  understood." 

"  That's  agreeable  to  me,"  said  Billings. 

"  Directly,  or  indirectly  —  or  any  other  way. 
There'll  be  no  rake-off  for  the  seller  in  this  —  abso- 
lutely. No  bonuses  or  commissions  or  side  deals. 
We  each  get  just  exactly  what  the  other  does  on  the 
basis  of  the  stock  we  own." 

'  That's  agreeable  to  me,"  said  Billings  again, 
not  changing  a  muscle. 

"  All  right." 

"  Then  I'll  tell  you  what  we'll  do,"  he  said,  sit- 
ting up  at  his  desk,  after  a  minute  — "  so  it  will  be 
absolutely  sure.  We'll  sign  two  agreements  —  I  to 
you,  and  you  to  me.  We'll  both  agree,  for  a  period 
of  three  years,  say,  that  if  we  hold  the  company, 
we'll  vote  our  stock  together  —  always." 

11  Yes." 

"  But  if  either  one  can  sell  the  other's  stock  for  a 
million  dollars  or  more,  he  has  the  option  to  do  so." 

"  Provided,"  I  said,  "  he  gets  himself  no  more 
than  the  other  does." 

"  Exactly.  I  understand,"  said  Billings.  "  But 
if  you  can  sell  my  stock,  or  I  yours  —  for  a  mil- 
lion — " 

"  You  sell  it,"  I  said.  "  Quick  as  God'll  let  you. 
Only  remember,"  I  said,  "  share  and  share  alike,  or 
the  whole  thing's  off;  the  option  is  no  good." 

"  Certainly,"  said  Proctor  Billings.  "  That  will 
be  part  of  the  agreement.  But  under  this  arrange- 


Mutual  Protection  227 

ment,"  he  went  along,  "  you're  willing  to  let  these 
people  go  on  with  their  financing  it  now?  " 

"  Well,  yes,"  I  said,  thinking  a  minute.  "  This 
thing  is  a  roast  they're  putting  over  now.  It's  a  rot- 
ten roast  and  a  hold-up  to  get  that  common  stock  out 
of  the  treasury  that  way.  But  I  don't  know  what  we 
can  do  better  —  do  you  ?  " 

"  No, —  so  long  as  we  get  a  good  share  of  it  our- 
selves." 

'  Well,  then,  let  them  go  ahead,  as  far  as  I'm  con- 
cerned. I  think  it  will  be  better  business,  everything 
taken  into  consideration.  That's  what  you  think, 
isn't  it?" 

'  Yes,  I  think  so,"  he  said,  sitting  there  with  his 
still  fit  on,  watching  —  his  eyes  clear  as  crystal, 
and  his  face  as  still  as  an  old  cat  looking  around  the 
corner  at  a  squirrel.  "  I  think  so  on  the  whole." 

So  we  went  into  it  on  that  basis. 

"  And  you  want  to  get  busy,"  I  said,  when  I  got  up 
to  go,  "  right  away.  I'll  be  looking  for  my  million." 

"  All  right,"  he  said,  smiling.  "  I  will.  I  don't 
say  I  will  get  any  such  price,  you  understand,"  he 
said,  "  I  merely  thought  it  would  do  no  harm  to 
try." 

"  Oh,  I  understand,"  I  said.  "  I  was  just  kidding 
you." 

"  Well,  I'm  very  glad,"  said  Billings,  getting  up 
with  his  polite  manners  on  full  force,  to  let  me  out, 
"  we  arranged  it  so  easily.  My  father  used  to  say," 
he  said,  turning  back  to  the  picture  again,  "  it  was 
hard  enough  to  divide  losses,  but  it  was  the  devil  to 
split  up  profits  between  two  men." 


228    The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

And  he  gave  me  a  cold  long  hand  again,  and  shook 
hands,  and  I  went  out. 

I  didn't  believe  what  he  said;  I  didn't  believe  for  a 
minute  that  anybody  was  going  to  offer  us  a  million 
dollars  for  that  property.  But,  yet,  at  the  same 
time,  it  didn't  make  me  mad  at  all  to  hear  him  say  it. 
And  we  certainly  weren't  getting  bad  money  now, 
any  way  he  put  it.  And  all  that  afternoon,  it  kept 
coming  back  to  my  head  —  as  if  somebody  was  call- 
ing it  to  me :  "  A  million  dollars.  A  million.  Bill 
Morgan,  millionaire !  " 

I  went  over  to  Lembach's  for  a  little  drink 
after  I  left  the  bank;  and  then  right  over  to  the 
office. 

"  A  little  more  speed,  Bill,"  I  said  to  myself. 
"  You've  been  letting  down  a  little,  since  this  little 
deal  of  yours  was  on.  Back  to  the  factory  for 
yours.  A  little  more  speed.  You've  got  to  gear  up 
a  little  bit  higher,  brother,  if  you're  going  into  the1 
millionaire  class!  " 

I  sat  there  and  jammed  things  around  in  the  office ; 
and  kept  the  office  force  humming,  and  half  of  them 
and  myself  after  hours.  They  certainly  heard  from 
me  in  the  office  that  afternoon.  With  that,  and 
that  luncheon  and  the  boys,  and  the  excitement  of 
talking  with  Proctor  Billings  over  that  stock  thing, 
my  stomach  went  bad  again,  and  I  went  home  again 
that  night  late  and  ugly  —  feeling  rocky. 

It  was  that  night,  at  the  house,  I  first  heard  about 
the  Thomases  and  Chuck  Powers. 

'You  know  what  Pasc  and  Zetta  have  done?" 
Polly  asked  me  when  I  got  into  the  house. 


Mutual  Protection  229 

"  No." 

"  They've  got  Tom's  boy  for  chauffeur;  Pasc  told 
me  today." 

"  The  fools!  "  I  said.  "  What's  he  thinking  of. 
That  speed  maniac!"  I  said.  "They  must  be 
crazy.  He'll  kill  them  all  before  he's  through." 

"  I'd  rather  ride  behind  him,"  said  Polly,  "  than 
with  Zetta,  when  she's  out  in  that  big  new  runabout 
of  hers." 

'  They're  two  of  a  kind,''  I  said  — "  she  and  the 
boy." 

"  Maybe  he'll  be  more  careful,"  said  Polly,  "  driv- 
ing somebody  else." 

"  He  can't  be,"  I  told  her.  "  It  gets  in  the  blood 
after  awhile.  That's  all  he  is,  anyhow  —  speed ! 
Speed,"  I  said,  "  and  some  cheap  tailor's  clothes, 
pressed  up  every  morning." 

"  You're  a  little  bit  hard  on  him,  I  always 
thought,"  said  Polly. 

And  that  made  me  hot,  I  suppose. 

"  Yes?  "  I  said.  "  Well,  I  happen  to  know  him, 
that's  all.  That  ain't  the  only  thing  either.  From 
all  I  hear,  I  don't  think  he's  a  fit  thing  to  be  driving 
a  decent  woman  around,  anyhow." 

"  Oh,  Bill,"  said  Polly.  "  That  kid!  You  men 
are  disgusting." 

"What  do  you  know  about  it?"  I  said  to  her. 
"  He's  twenty-three,  yes  —  and  he's  older  than  most 
of  us  at  forty  —  if  you  want  to  know !  If  you  want 
to  get  an  idea  about  what's  what,  you  want  to 
stand  for  a  minute,  and  listen  to  those  kids,  as  you 
call  them  —  those  bottle-shaped  loafers  before  the 


230     The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

garage,  tell  what  they  know  about  the  women  going 
by." 

"I  —  I'd  like  to,"  said  Polly,  getting  sarcastic. 
"  It  would  be  a  nice  thing  for  me  to  spend  my  time 
doing." 

"  Well,  you'll  see  me  in  the  morning,  going  over 
and  telling  Pasc  what  I  think  about  it !  "  said  I. 

"  I  would,"  said  Polly.  "  I  —  I'd  make  myself 
just  as  popular  as  I  could,  mixing  into  family  affairs 
like  that?" 

"  You  trust  me!  "  said  I. 

'  Yes  —  like  a  bull  in  a  china  shop,"  said  she. 

"  You  go  to  the  devil !  I'll  do  what  I  want  to," 
I  told  her;  and  turned  over  and  tried  to  get  to  sleep. 
I  was  feeling  rotten  still.  My  stomach  was  all  in. 
She  was  right  —  though  I  wouldn't  say  it  to  her, 
naturally.  I  was  uglier  than  hell's  kitchen,  those 
last  few  months,  but  I  couldn't  stop  it.  I  seemed 
to  have  no  control  over  myself  at  all. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

A   DIFFERENCE    OF    OPINION 

"  Look  here,"  I  said  to  Pasc,  a  few  days  after 
that,  when  I  was  stopping  at  his  house.      "  What 
are  you  trying  to  do  —  kill  your  wife?  " 
"  What  do  you  mean?  "  said  Pasc. 
"  Is  it  true,  what  I  hear,  you've   engaged  that 
Chuck  Powers  for  a  chauffeur?  " 

'  Yes,"  Pasc  told  me,  acting  a  little  bit  awkward. 
"  He's  going  to  work  for  us,  temporarily,  till  he  gets 
something  else." 

'  You  ought  to  have  more  sense,"  said  I. 
"  Don't  you  know  he's  the  most  reckless  damned 
driver  in  seven  States.  And  here  in  town,"  I  told 
him,  "  he's  got  to  be  worse  —  even.  He's  got  to  be 
the  town  devil  to  hold  up  his  reputation  with  those 
half-baked  young  speed  experts  around  the  ga- 
rage." 

'  Well,"  said  Pasc,  acting  as  if  he  didn't  want 
to  talk  about  it,  "  it  was  Zetta's  idea.  And  you 
know  how  she  is  about  a  car  now!  " 

'  Yes,   I  know.      Fifty  miles  an  hour  is  loafing 
through  traffic!     And  that  makes  it  all  the  worse." 
'  What  is  this?  "  said  Zetta,  coming  in  on  us  sud- 
denly from  the  back  room.     "  What  are  you  saying 
about  me?  " 


232     The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

"  I  was  saying  to  him,"  I  said,  making  the  best 
of  it,  "  he  ought  to  have  more  sense  than  to  get  that 
wild  Chuck  Powers  to  drive  you  around." 

"Look  here,"  she  said,  coming  right  at  me,  the 
way  I  knew  she  would,  "  what's  that  to  you? 
Wasn't  it  enough,"  she  said,  snapping  those  black 
eyes  of  hers,  "  for  you  not  to  give  him  a  job,  when 
you  owed  it  to  him,  without  going  around  and  try- 
ing to  push  him  out  of  one,  when  he  gets  it." 

"  I  offered  him  a  job.  A  darned  good  job,"  I  told 
her.  "  He'd  have  had  it  now,  if  he  hadn't  got  such 
a  swelled  head." 

"  He  couldn't  take  it,  if  he  wanted  to,"  she  said. 
"  His  right  hand  is  too  stiff.  He  couldn't  stand 
it." 

"  His  head's  too  stiff,"  I  said,  "  from  swelling  up 
between  his  ears.  His  hands  are  too  clean,  that's 
all  that  ails  them.  He's  got  too  much  good  looks. 
He  wants  to  stand  around  with  the  rest  of  those 
cigarette  holders,  who  lop  around  in  front  of  the 
garage  and  take  the  servant  girls  out  on  joy  rides  in 
somebody's  machine  they  couldn't  pay  for,  if  they 
took  all  the  pay  for  honest  work  they  were  ever 
going  to  get  in  their  lives !  " 

i{  The  trouble  with  you,  Bill,  is,"  she  said,  looking 
me  in  the  eye :  "  you've  had  it  in  for  him  ever  since 
he  wouldn't  take  that  job  you  offered  him.  You're 
sore.  I  don't  blame  him  a  bit  for  not  taking  that  job 
—  even  if  he  could  do  it.  That  ain't  his  kind  of 
work,  anyway." 

"  No,  he's  too  good  for  it,"  said  I.  "  He's  got 
too  good  a  shape." 


A  Difference  of  Opinion  233 

"  And  besides,"  she  went  along,  "  if  you  want  to 
know,  we've  only  got  him  temporarily  —  till  he  gets 
something  else  to  do.  We  owed  him  that  much, 
anyhow!  " 

"  Aiming  at  me,  I  suppose?  "  I  said. 

"  If  you  want  to  take  it!  "  she  said.  '  You  owe 
him  as  much  as  we  do  —  and  more." 

"  Well,  I've  done  what  I'm  going  to,"  I  told  her. 
"  I  certainly  wouldn't  do  anything  for  him  now  — 
not  after  the  way  he's  acted.  But  if  you  want  to,"  I 
said,  "  and  want  to  get  hung  up  on  a  telegraph  pole 
—  all  right.  Go  ahead.  I  suppose  you  won't  be 
satisfied,  anyhow,  unless  you're  going  five  hundred 
miles  an  hour  in  that  runabout  of  yours.  But  that's 
your  lookout. 

"  That's  your  lookout,"  I  said,  getting  hotter  as  I 
went  on.  "  But  I  wouldn't  have  him  around  on  gen- 
eral principles.  He's  a  bad  egg  all  the  way  through. 
I  wouldn't  board  him  in  my  dog  house,"  I  said. 
"  And  I  know  what  I'm  talking  about." 

"  So  do  I,"  said  Zetta.  "  Let's  talk  about  some- 
thing else." 

I  was  right,  just  the  same,  and  I  knew  I  was, 
though,  naturally,  I  shut  my  mouth  up  then.  That 
boy  had  gone  bad  since  he'd  been  in  that  riding  game, 
traveling  around  in  the  country,  learning  all  the 
worst  of  the  nasty  underground  things  that  a  bunch 
of  fresh  young  kids  poking  around  from  one  city 
to  another  get  taught  to  them.  He  was  a  handsome 
looking  devil  now.  And  he'd  come  back,  like  one  of 
those  kings  of  the  dare-devils  in  the  movies,  a  real 
hero,  standing  around  with  that  bunch  in  front  of  the 


234     The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

garage,  making  comments  on  mankind  in  general, 
with  just  two  ideas  in  their  noodles  —  women  and 
speed;  how  they're  going  to  sneak  off  with  some- 
body's machine,  and  take  some  cheap  girl  carousing 
around  the  country  at  sixty  miles  an  hour,  with  a 
ten-dollar  bill  they've  managed  to  knock  down  on 
the  garage  charges  of  their  employers.  I  know  that 
bunch;  don't  fret.  I've  watched  them;  and  he  was 
the  wisest  of  the  lot,  the  wisest,  hardest  boy  there 
—  under  contract  to  be,  you  might  say. 

But  I  didn't  say  anything  more  about  it  then.  I 
had  my  own  business  to  attend  to.  I  never  spoke  of 
it  again,  till  that  talk  began  to  go  around. 

"  Do  you  know  what  I  heard  to-day?  "  Polly  asked 
me,  one  night,  after  we  went  to  bed. 

"  No." 

"  A  woman  told  me  —  you  know  who  —  that  it 
was  all  around  that  Zetta  is  over  in  Watertown  at 
that  swell  roadhouse  there,  dancing  with  that  Tom's 
boy.  People  who've  been  over  there  have  seen  her 
several  times  —  dancing  with  him." 

"  I  don't  believe  it,"  I  said.  "  I  know  who  it  was 
told  you  —  and  I  don't  believe  it." 

"  It  might  be,  at  that,"  said  Polly,  "  over  there 
thirty-five  miles  away,  where  she'd  think  nobody  from 
here  would  come." 

1  You've  got  that  wrong,"  I  said.  "  She's  got 
more  sense.  She  wouldn't  do  it." 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Polly.  "  She  might.  The 
girl's  half  crazy.  She  don't  know  what  to  do  with 
herself  —  since  they  got  their  money,  especially. 
She  can't  be  attending  Pasc  all  the  time,  and  she's 


A  Difference  of  Opinion  235 

never  found  anybody  here  that  she  liked.  And  no- 
body's taken  her  up  anywhere." 

"  Ah-ha,  maybe,"  I  said.  "  But  you're  wrong 
about  this  other  thing." 

She  wasn't  though.  I  heard  it  several  places  after 
that.  If  the  devilish  boy  hadn't  had  such  a  repu- 
tation everywhere  —  as  a  general  all-around,  still- 
mouthed  devil,  it  would  have  been  different.  If  he 
had  been  an  ordinary  chauffeur  even,  but  he  was 
something  else.  He  was  better  than  just  a  chauf- 
feur, in  a  way.  He  was  a  kind  of  a  town  character 
—  a  celebrity.  Everybody  knew  about  the  thing. 
And  by  and  by  it  got  too  strong  for  me  to  stomach. 

"  Now  here,  Pasc,"  I  said,  going  to  him  finally. 
"  I'm  going  to  talk  to  you  like  a  Dutch  uncle." 

"  What  about?  "  said  Pasc,  staring  at  me. 

He  was  looking  awful  thin  and  old  lately.  Those 
pale  eyes,  looking  at  you,  from  way  down  in  their 
sockets  —  deeper  and  deeper. 

''  When  are  you  going  to  let  that  young  fool  that's 
driving  Zetta  around  for  you  go?  "  I  asked  him. 

''Why?"  Pasc  asked,  looking  up  quickly. 
'What  do  you  mean?  Have  they  had  any  more 
accidents  I  haven't  heard  about?  " 

'  They've  had  enough,  I  guess,"  I  said.  "  I've 
known  of  three.  He'll  get  her  some  day.  Or  she'll 
get  herself,  driving  along  those  country  roads  at 
such  a  clip." 

"  I  know  it,"  said  Pasc.  "  But  what  can  I  do? 
That's  what  she  wants.  That's  exactly  what  she's 
after  now  —  tearing  around  in  that  car,  and  I  can't 
stop  it." 


236    The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

"  Yes,  you  can  stop  it,  too,"  I  said,  getting  mad 
at  that  soft  easy-going  way  he  always  had  toward 
her.  "  You've  got  to.  If  you  don't  want  to  get 
her  killed!" 

"  He's  a  wonderful  driver,"  said  Pasc.  "  You've 
got  to  say  that  for  him !  " 

"  That's  the  kind  that  always  get  theirs,"  said 
I,  "  sooner  or  later.  And  besides  that,  he  ain't 
driving  all  the  time.  She's  doing  some  of  it. 
And  there  ain't  any  woman  alive  that's  fit  to  drive 
at  those  high  speeds  —  not  if  she  once  gets  in  a 
pinch!" 

"  Zetta's  got  a  pretty  good  head  on  her,"  said 
Pasc,  arguing  with  me. 

"  Maybe  she  has,"  I  said,  getting  excited,  I  sup- 
pose, arguing.  "  You  can  take  a  chance  with  her,  if 
you  want  to.  But  that  ain't  the  only  thing  either. 
He's  not  a  fit  man  to  be  driving  around  your  wife  — 
or  anybody's  wife." 

;'  Who  says  so  I  "  he  said,  starting  up. 

"  I  say  so,"  I  came  back.  "  You  know  his  repu- 
tation, as  well  as  I  do.  If  you  don't  you  ought  to, 
dragging  these  fool  girls  around  nights,  in  your  car, 
when  you  ain't  home.  I  don't  suppose,  maybe,  you 
know  all  that,"  I  said,  thinking — "with  your  eyes 
turned  inside  out  all  the  time  you're  awake,  looking 
at  some  new  carburetor.  But  you  ought  to.  If 
you  don't,  it's  time  you  did. 

"  Now,  look  here,"  I  said  —  kind  of  sorry  for 
him,  the  way  I  always  was,  when  I  saw  him  hand- 
ling practical  things;  "while  I'm  at  it,  I'm  going 
through  with  what  I've  got  to  say.  You  and  Zetta 


A  Difference  of  Opinion  237 

are  my  friends.  I  haven't  got  any  better  that  I 
know  of!  " 

"  I  don't  think  you  have,"  said  Pasc,  getting  em- 
barrassed. 

"  And  I  know  what  I  say  to  you  is  right.  And 
you'll  take  it  the  way  I  mean  it.  It  ain't  the  right 
thing  to  have  that  boy  driving  Zetta  around  all  times 
of  the  day  and  night,  stopping  at  hotels  and  tea 
houses  for  refreshments.  You  and  I  know  it's  all 
right,"  I  hurried  up  to  say.  "  But  it  don't  help  her 
any.  It  can't  help  but  make  people  talk." 

"  I'd  like  to  hear  'em,"  said  Pasc,  his  old  leather 
face  set. 

"  Well,  they're  doing  it  all  right,"  I  said.  "  You 
might  just  as  well  face  the  thing  as  it  is." 

He  put  his  head  down  for  quite  a  while  after  that 
—  I  waiting  for  him. 

"  I'm  sorry  for  that,"  he  said.  "  I'm  sorry  that's 
come  — "  and  stopped. 

"  But  it's  my  fault  —  if  it  has,"  he  went  on  then, 
when  I'd  waited.  "  I  take  all  the  blame  for  it  my- 
self." 

"  Oh,  rats,"  I  told  him.     "  Blame  nothing!  " 

"  I  do,"  he  said.  "  I'm  a  fit  person  for  anybody 
to  live  with,  let  alone  a  quick,  lively,  full-blooded 
young  woman  like  Zetta  to  be  tied  to !  I'm  nothing 
but  a  sick  brain  sitting  in  a  chair,  turning  itself  inside 
out,  hunting  a  new  idea  for  a  carburetor;  keeping  on 
and  on  because  it  has  to.  With  no  more  control  over 
its  motions  than  a  clock  has." 

"  I  do  think  you  could  let  up  some,"  I  told  him, 
"  for  your  own  sake  as  well  as  hers.  But  that  ain't 


238     The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

what  I'm  talking  about  now.     What  you  want  to  do 
now  —  is  to  fire  that  boy." 

"How  can  I?" 

"Why  can't  you?" 

"  Zetta  won't  listen  to  it,"  he  said.  "  Not  till 
he  gets  another  job.  She  says  we  owe  it  to  him  — 
and  a  lot  more  than  we'll  ever  pay." 

"  The  hell  we  do,"  I  said,  getting  hot  again. 

"  That's  what  she  says,  and  what  she'll  stick  to  — 
you  know  that.  Especially  when  he's  down  and  out 
—  kind  of  —  this  way." 

I  could  see  that,  of  course. 

"  Well,  I'll  tell  you  what  I'll  do,"  I  said,  thinking 
it  over.  "  I'll  do  what  I  said  I'd  never  do.  But 
I'll  do  it  for  you !  I'll  get  a  place  for  him  —  an 
agency.  I'll  make  it  for  him !  " 

"  Much  obliged  to  you,  Bill;  that's  almighty  nice 
of  you,"  said  Pasc.  "  Not  that  I  think  a  whole  lot 
about  what  you've  just  been  saying  about  this  other 
thing.  Though  I've  taken  it  as  you  meant  it!  It's 
all  right  —  from  you  !  "  he  went  on.  "  But  I'll  say 
this.  I  am  worried  half  crazy  sometimes  —  think- 
ing about  her  tearing  around  any  old  road,  all 
kinds  of  hours  and  weather,  with  that  reckless  boy 
driving  her,  or  she  driving  him,  which  is  even 
worse." 

"  But  there's  one  thing,"  I  said,  waiting  for  him  to 
get  through,  "  I  won't  do !  I  won't  go  to  him,  and 
offer  a  job  to  him  myself  again.  I  won't  do  that  — 
under  any  circumstances." 

"  I  tell  you  what  I  wish  you  would  do,"  said  Pasc, 
"  I  wish  you'd  go  to  Zetta  and  get  her  to  take  it  up 


A  Difference  of  Opinion  239 

with  him.  I  think  there'd  be  more  of  a  chance  of 
him  taking  it." 

"Taking  it!  "  I  said.     "Taking  it!" 

"  From  you,"  said  Pasc.  "  You've  got  to  re- 
member he's  terrible  sore  at  you.  I  don't  really 
believe  anybody  but  Zetta  could  get  him  to  take  it." 

"  You  make  me  laugh,"  said  I.  "  But  I'll  go. 
I'll  see  her.  But  I  won't  see  him!  " 

So  I  went  to  her,  and  told  her  what  I'd  do. 

"  I'll  see,"  said  Zetta.  "  But  I  tell  you  now,  I 
don't  believe  he'll  do  it." 

"  You  ask  him,"  I  told  her.  "  And  then  you'll 
know  better.  What  he  wants  is  a  piece  of  easy 
money." 

"  It  isn't  so,"  said  Zetta. 

"  Well,  there  it  is,"  I  said.  "  That's  what  he 
asked  for.  Now  he's  got  it." 

"  All  right.     I'll  take  it  up  with  him,"  she  said. 

But  a  day  or  two  afterwards,  when  I  went  in  to 
see  about  it,  she  said:  "  It's  just  as  I  thought;  he 
wouldn't  take  it.  He  said  he  wouldn't  take  a  job 
from  you  if  it  was  his  last  meal  on  earth." 

"He  won't,  eh?"  I  said,  getting  mad,  and  a 
little  surprised,  at  that.  "  Well,  he  don't  have  to. 
But  that  shows  you  just  what  he  is.  He  don't  want 
to  work.  He's  got  a  snap,  and  he  knows  it.  He's 
bad  clear  through;  that's  what's  the  matter  with 
him." 

"  I  don't  think  so,"  said  Zetta,  her  mouth  setting. 
"  I  don't  think  that's  the  way  he  is  at  all." 

"  Now,  look,"  I  said.  "  I  want  to  ask  you  some- 
thing." 


240     The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

"  Go  ahead,"  she  said. 

"  Are  you  still  going  to  keep  him?  " 

"Why  not?" 

"  Well,  I'll  tell  you  why  not,  if  you  want  to 
know,"  I  said.  "  In  the  first  place,  you've  got  Pasc 
scared  to  death  —  jumping  four  ways  for  Sunday, 
for  fear  you'll  get  killed  —  smashed  up  with  that 
reckless  fool." 

"  There's  nothing  to  it,"  she  said.  "  He's  one 
of  the  best  drivers  in  the  country." 

"  Well,  you  ought  to  think  of  Pasc,  anyway,"  said 
I.  "  How  he  feels !  " 

"  How  often  does  he  think  of  me?  "  she  said,  her 
eyes  getting  sharp  and  shiny.  "  Or  anything  besides 
that  fool  carburetor!  No.  /  can  take  care  of 
myself!" 

1  That's  a  nice  thing  to  say,"  I  said. 

"Isn't  it!"  she  said  after  me,  her  eyes  getting 
hard. 

"  Yes,"  I  came  back  at  her.  "  It  is.  And  there's 
something  else,  too,  as  long  as  we're  on  the  sub- 
ject. There's  a  second  thing." 

"  What  is  it?"  she  asked,  in  a  kind  of  a  sharp 
suspicious  voice. 

"  He's  not  a  fit  man  to  be  driving  you,  or  any 
other  woman  around. 

'  You  must  know  that,"  I  said,  when  she  didn't 
answer.  "  If  you  don't,  you  ought  to." 

"  Go  ahead  now  you've  started,"  she  said,  her 
eyes  getting  a  still,  dangerous  light  in  them. 
"What  else?" 

"  Nothing  else,"  I  said.     "  Except  that  you  can't 


A  Difference  of  Opinion  241 

do  it  —  or  any  other  woman  can't  —  without  get- 
ting talked  about." 

"  Do  what?  "  she  said. 

"  Go  around  —  driving  up  and  down  the  country 
—  stopping  at  tearooms  and  restaurants  —  danc- 
ing — "  I  said.  I  looked  away  from  her  —  and  said 
it.  I  thought  I  would  get  it  out  once  and  for  all. 

"  What  is  this  you're  giving  me,"  she  said,  very 
low  and  quiet.  "An  insult?" 

'  You  know  it  ain't,"  I  said. 

And  she  stopped  a  minute,  her  mouth  shut  down 
tight. 

"  If  anybody  else  said  that  to  me,  I'd  kill  them," 
she  said  then  —  and  stopped,  getting  hold  of  her- 
self again. 

"  I'll  tell  you  this,"  she  said  finally,  "  so  you'll 
know.  Pasc  knows  all  about  what  I  do  —  every- 
thing—  and  has  from  the  first." 

"  I  don't  doubt  that,"  I  said. 

"  And  it's  nobody  else's  business,"  she  went  on, 
giving  me  a  stare. 

"  Maybe  it  ain't,"  I  said.  "  But  that  don't  pre- 
vent their  making  it  their  business." 

"  It's  nobody's  business,"  she  said,  "  if  I  want  to 
go  out,  and  amuse  myself  —  and  get  a  little  excite- 
ment out  of  life.  And  not  sit  at  home,  and  mope 
around  with  a  monomaniac — a  man  with  one  idea 
in  his  head." 

"Don't!"  said  I. 

"  No.  I'll  take  that  back,"  she  said.  "  He's  al- 
most sick,  I  know  that.  But  he  don't  treat  me 
fair!" 


242     The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

"  He  wouldn't  treat  you  bad  for  the  world,"  I 
told  her. 

"  No,  he  don't  beat  me  up,"  she  said,  in  a  kind 
of  bitter  voice.  "  I  wish  to  God  he  would  some- 
times, so  I'd  know  he  noticed  me !  " 

And  we  both  sat  still  a  minute. 

"  I  try  to  do  what  I  can,"  she  went  on.  "  I  did 
try  to  keep  him  interested  —  the  best  I  could.  But 
it  wasn't  any  use.  He  won't  even  look  up  and  look 
at  me,  the  way  a  man  looks  at  a  woman  he  cares  for. 
So  I've  cut  it  out. 

"  So  I  do  what  I  can  to  keep  him  well,"  she  said, 
in  this  bitter  voice;  "  and  when  I  can't  do  anything 
else,  I  get  out.  I've  got  a  right  to  that  much ! 

"  Besides,"  she  said,  letting  down  a  bit,  "  I'm 
doing  nothing  wrong  or  underhanded.  I've  told 
him  what  I  did.  He  understands  it  perfectly  well." 

"  Yes,"  I  said.  "  So  do  I.  But  the  rest  of  them 
don't." 

"  What  do  I  care,"  she  said,  letting  go  of  herself 
—  her  cheeks  with  deep  red  spots  in  them,  "  for 
the  rest  of  them?  What  they  say!  I  don't  give 
that,"  she  said,  snapping  her  fingers.  "  Or  for  you 
either !  "  she  said  all  at  once  to  me  —  her  breathing 
coming  quicker. 

'  You  come  in  here,  and  insult  me !  In  my  own 
home,"  she  said.  "What  do  you  think  I  am?  I 
won't  stand  it  —  you  —  you  —  get  — " 

"  Hold  on,  Zet;  wait  —  before  you  go  that  far!  " 
said  I.  "  I'm  not  doing  this  for  my  own  amuse- 
ment. I've  got  something  else  to  occupy  my  mind 
but  going  around  insulting  women.  I'm  doing  this 


A  Difference  of  Opinion  243 

because  you  and  Pasc  are  the  two  best  friends  I've 
got  —  or  I  think  you  are.  And  I'd  be  damned  sorry 
if  you'd  ever  go  to  smash,  any  way.  That's  what 
I'm  here  for  now.  And  you  know  it  just  as  well  as 
I  do." 

And  she  looked  down  —  and  didn't  say  anything 
back  to  me. 

"  Don't  you?  "  I  asked  her. 

'  Yes.     I  guess  so!  "  she  said  finally. 

"  I  don't  go  whispering,  and  goggling  behind  your 
back.  I  come  to  you  man  fashion  and  tell  you 
what's  going  on,  like  a  friend  should  —  or  I  think  he 
should,  anyhow. 

"  I  come  to  you,"  I  said,  "  because  I've  got  a 
license  to  if  anybody  has.  I'm  just  telling  you  facts 
you  ought  to  know.  And  you've  got  no  business  to 
get  mad  over  it  —  not  for  a  minute." 

"I  suppose  you're  right  —  maybe — "  she  said, 
after  awhile,  thinking. 

And  I  sat  still,  waiting  to  see  if  she'd  say  anything 
more. 

"  I  always  said,"  she  came  out  finally,  "  I  wouldn't 
explain  to  anybody.  It  was  nobody  s  business  — 
but  I  will  —  to  you,"  she  said,  "  as  long  as  it's  come 
up  this  way." 

And  then  she  went  along  to  tell  me  about  herself. 

"  For  the  rest  of  them,"  she  said  — "all  of  them, 
except  you  and  Polly,  I  don't  give  one  little  silver 
damn.  And  the  women  especially.  Especially  the 
women!  I  never  liked  one  scarcely,  in  my  life. 
Not  scarcely  one.  They're  mean-spirited,  small- 
souled  things  —  the  whole  of  them.  I  always  liked 


244     The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

the  men  better.  They're  kinder  hearted,  and  more 
charitable  at  bottom.  They'd  do  more  for  you  in 
trouble." 

And  she  told  me  again  about  how  she  was  raised, 
and  about  her  father  —  an  old-fashioned,  horsey 
kind  of  a  man,  who  kept  a  livery  stable  in  a  small 
town ;  one  of  those  old-time,  free-and-easy  horse  men. 

"  He  was  as  fine  a  man,  if  I  do  say  so,"  she  said, 
holding  her  head  up, — "  as  anybody !  We  had  more 
money,  and  spent  more  than  almost  anybody  else  in 
that  narrow-minded,  mean-spirited,  little,  psalm-sing- 
ing country  village.  There  wasn't  a  man  there  who 
didn't  like  him  —  and  say  he  was  a  good  fellow. 
But  did  any  of  those  dowdy,  beady-eyed,  bony-souled 
New  England  women  have  anything  to  do  with  us? 
Not  on  your  life. 

'  The  more  I  see  of  women,"  she  broke  out  again, 
"  the  more  I  despise  them.  They  ain't  half  so  kind 
minded  as  a  weasel.  Except  now  and  then,  a  few 
of  them  — "  she  said  again,  and  tears  came  into  her 
eyes  -  "  like  my  mother  was.  Except  when  they 
come  like  my  mother  and  your  wife  —  like  old  Polly. 
And  then  they're  half  angels  —  too  — "  she  said  and 
stopped. 

"  Little  sandy-headed,  spunky  angels,"  said  I, 
smiling  at  her,  letting  her  get  on  her  feet  again. 
"Eh?" 

'  Yes,"  she  said,  nodding  her  head,  going  on 
finally.  *  Too  good  and  kind  to  count  in  with  the 
rest  of  us  ordinary  folks. 

''  I'm  a  fool!  "  she  said,  and  took  out  her  hand- 
kerchief. 


A  Difference  of  Opinion  245 

"  See  here,"  I  said,  after  awhile,  "  Zet.  Ain't 
this  thing  half  your  fault?  Don't  you  stand  the 
women  off,  as  much  as  they  do  you?  " 

"  What  chance  did  they  ever  give  me  —  home, 
or  here  in  this  town  either?  Oh,  I  know,"  she 
said.  "  I  dress  too  gay.  I  talk  too  loud  for  them! 
I'm  looking  for  too  much  excitement. 

"  Oh,  I  know  them,  as  if  I'd  made  them,"  she 
said.  "  And  worked  out  their  poor  little  hand-em- 
broidered souls  for  them !  " 

"  I  don't  believe  it,"  I  said.  "  If  you  went  out 
to  play  with  them,  they'd  come  in  and  play  with 
you." 

"  Who  wants  to  play  with  them  —  those  frozen- 
faced  frumps?"  she  said  to  me.  "I  can  have 
some  amusement  of  my  own  —  if  I  have  to." 

"  If  you  met  them  half-way  —  like  Polly  does," 
I  said;  "  and  showed  them  you  liked  them!  " 

"That's  different,"  she  said.  "Polly's  differ- 
ent." 

"  Nonsense,"  I  said.  "  Different  nothing.  You'll 
be  just  the  same  yourself,  when  you  get  in  your  new 
home  up  on  the  hill  with  us." 

That  was  just  after  we'd  bought  our  new  house  on 
High  Hill. 

"  You'll  get  in  just  as  well  as  we  did." 

"  No,  I  won't,"  said  Zetta.  "  And  I  don't  want 
to.  And  about  this  other  thing,"  she  said,  "  we  were 
talking  about;  I  shall  go  ahead,  just  as  I  always  did 
—  so  long  as  Pasc  knows  about  it.  So  long  as  he 
says  nothing,  it's  nobody  else's  business,  if  I  want 
to  get  a  little  excitement  out  of  life.  You've  got 


246     The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

to  remember,  Bill,  I'm  not  getting  any  younger." 

"  Yes,  you're  terribly  old,"  I  said. 

"  I'm  thirty  —  pretty  near,"  she  said.  "  And  if 
I'm  going  to  get  anything  out  of  being  young,  I've 
got  to  get  busy.  And  as  far  as  I  look  at  it,  it  don't 
seem  to  me  wildly  wicked  for  me  to  go  out  and  see 
other  people  enjoy  themselves,  dancing  around." 

"  And  dance  around  yourself,  occasionally." 

"  Mighty  seldom,"  she  came  back  quick.  "  Only 
once  or  twice,  when  I  just  had  to.  Of  course  they'd 
make  it  a  hundred,  if  they  saw  it  once!  I  had  to, 
Bill,  I  was  feeling  so'darned  blue.  I  get  that  way, 
every  now  and  then,  Bill;  you  know  it.  I  get  des- 
perate. I  just  get  where  it's  anything  for  a  little 
excitement. 

"  And  so  far  as  this  boy  goes,"  she  said,  "  you're 
wrong  about  him.  You  don't  do  him  justice  in  the 
first  place.  You  can't  —  after  that  row  with  him. 
He's  nothing  but  a  boy  —  I'm  a  grown  woman  to 
him. 

"  But  if  he  was  all  you  said  he  was,"  she  went  on, 
when  I  didn't  say  anything,  "  do  you  think  for  a 
minute  I'm  not  able  to  take  care  of  myself?  The 
first  minute  he  got  gay,"  she  said,  her  eyes  flashing, 
"  what  would  happen?  What  do  you  think!  "  she 
asked  me. 

"  I  suppose  you'd  eat  him  —  alive,"  I  said. 
"  But  that  ain't  it." 

"  It  is,  too,"  she  said,  "  so  far  as  I'm  concerned. 
What  do  I  care  what  they  say?  You  don't  know 
how  it  is,  Bill,"  she  said.  "  Being  cooped  up.  Be- 
ing a  woman  —  all  the  time  on  your  good  behavior  I 


A  Difference  of  Opinion  247 

You  don't  know  what  it  is  not  to  have  something  to 
do.  Do  you  now?"  she  asked  me.  "Imagine 
yourself!  " 

"  No,  I  suppose  I  don't,"  I  told  her. 

"  Except  tend  a  sick  man  who  doesn't  want  you 
around." 

"  That  ain't  so,"  I  told  her.     "  And  you  know  it." 

But  she  just  shook  her  head.  "  I  oughtn't  to  be 
a  woman,"  she  said.  "  I  wish  a  thousand  times  I 
could  have  been  a  boy  instead  of  a  girl.  But  it 
ain't  really  anything  we  can  help,  is  it?"  she  said 
and  smiled  at  me  again  —  a  little  crooked. 

"  No,"  I  said.  "  But  for  God's  sake,  Zetta,  do 
what  I  tell  you.  Cut  this  boy  out." 

"  I  can't  do  it,  Bill,"  she  said. 

"  Can't  —  why  not?  "  said  I. 

"  I  can't,"  she  said.  "  I  won't  throw  him  down 
—  now.  When  he's  fixed  the  way  he  is.  I  owe  him 
something.  And  I  like  him  —  in  a  way." 

"Why?" 

"  He's  such  a  young  untamed  devil,  I  guess,"  she 
said.  "  He  don't  care  what  he  does.  I  guess 
maybe  that's  one  main  thing.  And  he's  in  hard  luck. 
You  don't  believe  it,  but  he  is  I  He's  desperate. 

"But  you  didn't  ever  think?"  she  said,  all  at 
once  —  her  voice  getting  sharp  and  hard  again. 

4  Think  nothing,  Zet !  You  know  me  better  than 
that,"  I  said  to  her.  "  I  like  you.  I  always  did 
like  you.  And  I'd  trust  you  anywhere.  There  ain't 
a  crooked  hair  in  your  head.  Only  I  think  you're 
a  little  damn  fool  about  this  thing  —  and  you've 
got  to  stop  it." 


248    The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

"  That's  my  business,"  said  Zet. 

"  Look,"  I  said,  when  she  shook  her  head  at  me. 
"  You  will  do  this  much ;  you'll  try  again  to  get  him 
to  take  that  job  of  mine.  Insist  on  it." 

"  Yes.  I'll  try,"  she  said  finally.  "  But  it  won't 
be  any  good  —  any  more  than  it  was  before.  I  can 
tell  you  that  in  advance. 

"  You  don't  like  him,  Bill,"  she  told  me  again. 
She'd  let  down  a  little  and  was  talking  less  excited. 
"  And  when  you  come  down  to  it,  you  didn't  treat 
him  right.  I  know  just  the  way  it  happened. 
When  he  got  fresh,  or  when  you  thought  he  did, 
you  had  to  get  up  and  snatch  his  ears  off  —  the  first 
time  he  disagreed  with  you.  And  you've  never  for- 
gotten it.  And  you  never  will.  Oh,  I  know  you, 
Bill,"  she  said,  "  down  to  the  ground.  And  so  does 
everybody  else. 

"  And  there's  another  thing,  while  we're  at  it, 
talking  out  this  way,  Bill,"  she  said  to  me.  "  I've 
wanted  to  say  it  for  some  time." 

"What?" 

'  That  Proctor  Billings  is  going  to  get  you,  be- 
fore you  get  through  —  trim  you  bad,"  she  said, 
looking  through  me  with  those  smart  black  eyes  of 
hers. 

"  Why?     What  makes  you  think  so?  " 

"  I  know  it." 

"How?" 

"  I  don't  know  how." 

"  I  guess  you  don't." 

"  I  don't  know  how,"  she  said.  "  But  I  know 
he  will.  You're  too  slam  bang  downright;  you  can 


A  Difference  of  Opinion  249 

jam  a  thing  through,  all  right,  Bill;  but  you  can't 
sit  in  with  Proctor  Billings  on  that  game  he's  playing 
—  with  those  still-faced  boys,  as  you  call  them. 
Sooner  or  later,  they'll  get  you." 

"  Don't  you  worry,"  said  I. 

"  And  I  ain't  the  only  one  who  thinks  so,  either," 
she  told  me.  "  I've  heard  them." 

"  Don't  fret  —  not  too  much,"  I  told  her. 

"  I've  warned  you,  anyway,"  she  said,  "  of  what 
I  think,  and  what  they're  saying." 

I  didn't  ask  her  who;  I  didn't  attach  enough  im- 
portance to  it.  And  then  I  came  away  —  good 
friends  with  her  still.  Thinking  it  all  over,  about 
her  and  how  she  was  fixed  with  Pasc  and  his  inven- 
tions; and  that  crazy,  reckless,  bad-eyed  boy,  racing, 
faster  and  faster  every  hour,  downhill  to  the 
devil. 

"  How  much  is  there  in  what  she  says?  "  I  said  to 
Polly,  after  we'd  gone  to  bed  that  night.  "  Are 
they  really  trying  to  freeze  her  out  —  the  women 
here?" 

"  They  don't  like  her.  They're  not  much  struck 
on  any  of  us  I  guess,"  she  told  me,  "  if  the  truth  was 
known." 

"Why  not?" 

"  For  one  thing,  we've  made  too  much  money,  too 
quick,"  she  said.  "  And  then  again,  we  aren't  like 
them  I  " 

"Why  not?"  said  I.  "We're  decent  people. 
Just  as  good  stock  as  they  are." 

"We're  not,  that's  all,"  she  said.  "We  ain't 
like  them.  We  haven't  been  raised  the  same.  It'll 


250    The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

be  different  with  the  children.  I  can  see  that  al- 
ready." 

"  There's  one  thing,"  I  said.  "  They  won't  be 
darned  snobs  —  if  they  don't  want  their  heads 
knocked  off!" 

We  were  up  there  by  that  time,  in  that  High  Hill 
neighborhood  —  that  swellest  part  of  town;  near 
the  Proctor  Billings,  and  the  Waterburys,  and  the 
Fenby  Lesters.  Billings  had  helped  get  us  in  there 
—  in  that  old  Banks'  house  that  had  been  for  sale 
so  long.  And  I  felt  the  neighborhood,  I  thought, 
myself,  sometimes  —  kind  of  stiff  in  the  back  of  my 
neck. 

"  She's  entirely  different  from  them,  too,"  said 
Polly,  thinking.  "  You  can't  get  around  it.  She 
hasn't  got  along  here  in  town,  a  bit." 

"  She  lays  it  all  to  the  women,"  said  I. 

"  Well,  she's  right,"  said  Polly.  "  They  don't 
like  her." 

"  Why?     Just  for  what  reason?  " 

"  Her  dresses,"  said  Polly.  "  She  dresses  pretty 
gay,  for  one  thing,  for  a  town  outside  of  New  York. 
And  she  is  pretty  fond  of  color.  She  would  be 
noticeable  anywhere.  Then  there's  her  high  voice. 
And  they  don't  like  her  grammar,  either." 

"  Nor  her  good  looks,  I  guess,"  I  said  — "  prob- 
ably!" 

"  Probably  not,"  said  Polly.  "  But  she  is  pretty 
reckless  —  pretty  lawless,  you'll  have  to  admit." 

"  She  seems  to  always  have  to  have  excitement," 
I  answered. 

"  She  lives  on  it,"  said  Polly. 


A  Difference  of  Opinion  251 

"  But  you  agree  with  her,"  I  said.  *  You  think 
it's  the  women  that  have  got  it  in  for  her?  " 

"  Yes,  I  do." 

"  What  little  mean  things  they  are,"  I  said. 

"  Yes,  in  a  way,"  said  Polly.  "  I  suppose  so.  I 
suppose  they  are.  I  suppose  they've  got  to  be. 
They're  brought  up  that  way.  They  live  in  a  world 
of  little  things  —  terribly  small.  Their  main  pleas- 
ure, I  think  sometimes,  is  seeing  differences  —  think- 
ing they  and  their  folks  are  better  than  somebody 
else.  They  are  just  the  same,  I  always  thought,  till 
they  die,  as  they  were  when  they  were  children. 
They  never  grow  up,  that  way.  They're  just  the 
same  exactly  as  those  little  snippy  kids  who  used  to 
go  to  public  school  when  we  did,  and  went  off  by 
themselves  together,  because  they  had  kid  shoes  and 
handmade  underwear  when  the  rest  of  us  couldn't 
afford  it. 

"No;  you  can't  get  around  it,  Bill,"  said  Polly. 
"  Women  are  that  —  awful  little  in  such  things. 
But  it  ain't  all  bad  either,"  she  said.  "  It's  a  good 
thing  some  ways,  I  think  sometimes." 

"  Good.     How?  "  said  I.     "  I  don't  see  it." 

"  It  makes  them  want  to  keep  themselves  up,  all 
the  time,  and  their  children.  Make  them  look  good, 
and  act  decent,  and  keep  up  appearances,  and  get  in 
with  better  people,  always  —  more  educated.  And 
that  goes  a  long  ways  sometimes.  Men  don't  mind. 
They're  kind  of  careless  about  such  things.  And 
somebody's  got  to  do  it.  Somebody's  got  to  keep 
up.  It  does  a  lot  of  good,  taken  all  together.  And 
it's  a  woman's  job." 


252     The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

"  I  don't  see  it,"  I  said.  "  That's  stretching  it 
pretty  far." 

"  It's  right  though,"  said  Polly.  "  It's  better  a  lot 
of  times  —  it  has  more  influence  on  other  women, 
what  the  women  say  and  think,  than  all  the  police 
force  in  the  country,  that's  my  opinion." 

"  What  a  queer  old  girl  you  are,  Pol,"  I  said,  pat- 
ting her. 

"  It's  true,  all  the  same,"  she  told  me.  "  And 
that's  one  main  trouble  now  with  Zetta.  She  won't 
pay  any  attention  to  them  —  what  they  say,  or  what 
they  think.  She  goes  right  ahead  and  does  what 
she  pleases." 

"  No,"  said  I.  "  She  doesn't  give  a  hoot  for 
anybody;  she  never  did." 

"Perfectly  lawless,"  said  Polly.  "You  can't 
blame  them.  She's  got  started,  and  she  won't  stop; 
and  the  more  they  say,  the  more  she'll  defy  them. 
But  you  can't  blame  them,  either,  their  talking  about 
her." 

"  I  suppose  not,"  I  said.  "  She's  changed  a  whole 
lot,"  I  went  along,  after  awhile,  "  in  the  last  few 
months.  The  strain  of  it's  telling  on  her." 

"  It  is,"  said  Polly. 

"  I  don't  think  I  ever  saw  anybody  change  so 
much  in  such  a  little  time.  She  used  to  be  such  a  big 
strapping  good-humored  thing.  Now  she  acts  as 
if  the  devil  was  eating  her  raw.  I  never  knew  any- 
body to  change  so,"  said  I. 

"  I  have,"  said  Polly. 

"Who?" 

"You  I" 


A  Difference  of  Opinion  253 

"  Don't  start  that  again,"  I  said.  And  then  I 
rolled  over  and  went  to  sleep.  I  had  something  else 
on  my  mind  to  think  about  but  women  and  their 
troubles,  and  what  they  thought.  I  had  something 
big  coming  on  now. 


CHAPTER  XX 

WORD   FROM   NEW  YORK 

Proctor  Billings  had  called  me  over  to  the  bank 
the  first  of  that  week;  and  the  minute  I  went  in,  I 
knew  there  was  something  on.  He  was  so  terribly 
polite  and  polished.  You  could  quite  often  tell  that 
one  way,  that  something  was  coming  —  good  or 
bad.  You  very  likely  didn't  know  which.  But  that 
was  the  one  way  he  had  of  warning  you  —  of  show- 
ing his  feelings  in  any  way.  But  when  he  was  ex- 
tra polite  —  look  out  for  something  I 

He  sat  there  a  minute  or  two,  putting  another 
gold  engraved  cigarette  in  his  holder.  Then  he 
showed  me  the  cut  flowers  on  his  desk. 

"  Orchids,"  he  said.  "  I'm  trying  them  in  my 
conservatory  a  little.  Aren't  they  good?" 

I  guessed  then  it  was  something  pleasant  he  had 
to  tell  me.  And  right  after  that  it  came  out. 

'  You  know  what  I  think?  "  he  asked  me. 

"No  —  what?"  said  I,  waiting  for  him. 

"  I  think  I'm  going  to  take  up  that  option." 

"What  option?" 

14  That  one  on  your  stock." 

"  For  that  million  dollars,"  I  said,  stiffening  up. 
*  Yes,"  he  said,  very  cool  and  calm.  "  I  think 
now  I  can  get  us  both  our  million  dollars,  for  that 
stock." 


Word  from  New  York  255 

"Goon!"  I  told  him. 

"  Yes." 

"Apiece?" 

"  Yes." 

"How?"  said  I. 

"  That  Universal  Motors  combination  they're 
forming  —  just  as  I  thought  they  would,"  he  went 
on,  explaining.  "  They'll  take  in  one  motor  cycle 
company,  if  they  have  the  chance." 

"  How  do  you  know?  " 

"  I  have  had  it  from  headquarters,"  said  he. 
"  From  New  York.  Our  same  people  are  running 
it — Magnus  and  Company,  the  ones  who  financed 
us.  You  know  that,  of  course. 

"  And  I  believe,"  he  said,  "  if  you  and  I  manipu- 
late it  as  it  should  be  done;  if  we  stand  out  together, 
we  can  get  our  million  apiece  for  our  stock  here. 

"  If  we  want  it  now!  "  he  said. 

"If  we  want  it!"  I  said.  "Oh,  no,  we  don't 
want  it!  You  don't,  do  you,  Boy?"  said  I,  slap- 
ping him  on  the  shoulder. 

He  took  it  like  a  little  man.  He  even  smiled  a 
little. 

"  Yes,  I  think  I  would  take  it,"  he  said,  taking 
his  cigarette  holder  out  of  his  mouth  slowly. 

"  Oh,  no.  We  don't  want  it,"  said  I.  "  Gripes 
— if  I  saw  a  million  dollars  for  that  stuff  of  mine," 
I  said,  "  I'd  grab  it  and  run  down  the  road  so  fast 
you  couldn't  see  me  in  a  month  for  dust." 

"  And  I  think,  in  addition,"  Billings  went  on, 
making  another  smile  again,  "  I  could  get  you 
placed  at  a  big  salary  in  the  motor  cycle  end  of  the 


256     The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

company.  I'd  drop  out,  of  course,  when  they  left 
town  here." 

"Where'd  they  go?"  said  I. 

"  To  Detroit,  I  suppose.  They'd  want  to  fit  it  in 
with  the  rest  of  the  plant.  There's  where  the 
money  would  be  for  them  —  saving  on  the  overhead 
costs,  and  the  agencies." 

"  Look,"  said  I,  "  wouldn't  they  want  to  pay  it 
out  to  us  in  stock?  " 

"  Not  to  me,"  said  Billings.     "  Cash  only." 

"  Same  here,"  I  said.  "  I  don't  know  anything 
about  that  other  thing.  You  wouldn't  know  what 
you  got  hold  of  any  more  than  fishing  at  night." 

"Shall  I  go  ahead  then?" 

"  You  bet  you  shall,"  said  I. 

I  was  feeling  my  oats  pretty  well  when  I  went  out 
through  that  waiting  room  that  morning  —  that 
old  private  cooler  where  Proctor  Billings  had  them 
wait  for  him  to  see  them.  And  the  pictures  of  the 
sheep.  I  had  to  smile,  thinking  of  everything  going 
out 

But  I  struck  a  snag  right  away  I'd  never  dreamed 
of  —  with  Polly. 

"What  do  you  think  of  this,  Pol?"  I  said. 
"Eh?  A  million  dollars  in  cash  —  if  we  can  get 
it!  And  we  might,  at  that!  What  would  we  have 
thought  five  years  ago?  Great  business,  eh?" 

"  Great,"  she  said,  getting  excited.  "I  —  I'm 
awful  glad  you're  going  to  get  it,  Bill.  I  —  is  it  all 
to  be  in  money?  " 

"  It  will  be,  if  we  take  it." 

"  That  —  that's  fine,"  said  Polly,  brightening  up 


Word  from  New  York  257 

a  lot.  "  That'll  mean  you'll  have  a  chance  to  get 
out  and  rest  up  for  awhile." 

"  Not  so  you  notice  it,"  I  said.  "  Not  if  what 
we  want  goes  through.  I  stay  with  it  —  as  man- 
ager." 

"  Oh,"  said  Polly,  pulling  off.  "  Then  I  don't 
care  about  it.  It  don't  interest  me." 

"  Don't  interest  you !  "  said  I. 

"  No,"  she  said.  "  It  don't  mean  anything  to 
me  —  a  million  dollars  —  any  more;  only  a  lot  of 
figures.  We've  got  all  the  money  we  want  —  long 
ago,  and  more.  What  I'm  interested  in  is  you. 
What  I  thought  was  that  you  were  going  to  stop 
for  awhile." 

"  Well,  I  guess  not,"  I  said.  "  If  I  can  help  it. 
Why  should  I?  I  never  felt  better  in  my  life. 
I'm  as  fresh  as  a  daisy." 

'Why  —  why  should  you?"  said  Polly,  firing 
up  again.  '  Well,  if  you  lived  with  yourself,  you 
wouldn't  have  to  ask  that  question.  You're  all  to 
pieces,"  she  said,  her  voice  getting  sharp.  "  Your 
digestion's  gone.  Your  nerves  are  jangling  all  the 
time.  Why  wouldn't  they  be?  U-up  all  hours  of 
the  day  and  night,  at  the  factory.  O-out  ever)7 
day  and  half  the  night,  eating  heavy  meals  at  that 
Lembach's  and  the  Elks  with  those  men.  You 
can't  stand  it.  Nobody  can.  You're  different  en- 
tirely. You're  like  a  bear  with  a  sore  head.  No- 
body can  look  at  you,  but  you  get  up  and  want  to 
bite  them." 

"  I  must  be  a  nice  thing  to  live  with,  according  to 
you,"  I  said. 


258    The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

"  You  are,"  said  Pol.  "  And  it's  a  shame  too," 
she  said,  after  awhile,  "  when  you're  naturally  so 
good  tempered  —  when  you  aren't  all  to  pieces! 
That's  why  I  wanted  to  jump  up  and  laugh  out 
loud  when  I  heard  it.  I  thought  you  were  going  to 
sell  out  for  good." 

"  You  laugh  too  quick,"  I  told  her. 

"  Bill,"  she  said,  coming  over  and  putting  her 
arm  around  me.  "  You've  been  going  too  fast. 
You  can't  do  it.  You  don't  see  it,  but  I  do.  You 
don't  want  to  get  laid  out,  like  Pasc,  do  you  —  a 
chronic  invalid?  " 

"  I'm  not  Pasc,"  I  said. 

"  No,"  she  said.  "  But  you're  flesh  and  blood, 
just  the  same  —  if  you  don't  think  so.  You  can't 
stand  this  always.  I  know;  I  can  see." 

"  I  wish  you'd  stop  giving  out  that  moan  about 
Pasc,"  said  I,  getting  sore.  "  I'm  sick  and  tired  of 
hearing  it.  I'm  not  like  Pasc  in  the  slightest  de- 
gree. And  you  know  it.  I'm  no  broken-down  bag 
of  bones." 

"  N-no,"  she  said,  hurrying  it  out.  "  You're  big 
and  fat  and  puffy.  Just  as  bad  the  other  way. 
Just  as  bad  exactly." 

"  Oh,  piffle,"  I  said,  shaking  her  arm  off. 

'  There  you  go  again!  "  she  said. 

;<  Well,  this  hasn't  been  done  yet,"  said  I. 
'  Very  likely  it  won't  ever  be.  The  probabilities 
are  we'll  stay  right  here  and  keep  on  going  the  way 
we  are  now." 

"  And,  as  for  going  to  Detroit,"  said  Polly.  "  I 
wouldn't  stand  for  that,  anyhow." 


259 


"You  wouldn't,"  said  I,  staring  at  her;  "well, 
drop  it.  It  hasn't  happened  yet  I  "  And  I  got  out, 
and  went  down  the  street. 

It  made  me  pretty  sore,  what  she  said.  But 
there  was  something  in  it.  I  was  ugly  lately.  I 
felt  worse  all  the  time  —  like  a  vicious  dog. 

"  I  don't  know  what's  got  into  me  lately,"  I  said, 
going  down  to  the  Elks.  "  My  digestion's  all  out 
of  whack.  I  guess  that's  it  —  all  right.  It  must  be. 
I'll  have  to  be  a  little  more  careful  1  " 

Two  days  afterwards  I  heard  from  Proctor 
Billings  that  our  thing  would  probably  go  through 
—  price  and  all.  And  the  thirty  thousand  dollar  a 
year  job  for  me  —  if  I  wanted  it! 

I  felt  pretty  good,  naturally.  I  stopped  into 
Lembachs  for  lunch,  and  I  ate  more  than  I  ought 
to  —  grilled  clams,  I  think  it  was  —  that  was  their 
specialty.  Or  something  else  pretty  heavy.  When 
I  got  through  I  had  to  go  home.  I  had  one  of 
those  bilious  headaches  again. 

"  I  don't  see  what  it  is,  Pol,"  I  said,  when  I  got 
home.  "  I  never  used  to  be  like  this.  My  stomach 
seems  to  be  all  shot  to  pieces." 

"  You'll  find  out  what  it  is,"  she  said,  "  if  you 
keep  on  going  like  this  much  longer." 

"  You  may  be  right,"  I  said,  rolling.  "  Gripes!  " 
I  was  in  awful  pain.  "  I'll  have  to  cut  it  out  some, 
I  guess.  I'll  have  to  get  out  and  eat  simpler." 

"I'd  like  to  see  you!"  said  Polly.  "While 
you're  doing  what  you  are  now.  I'd  like  to  see  you 
stop,  when  anybody  wants  you  to  —  anything! 

"  No,  you  won't  stop,  ever.     You'll  do  exactly 


260    The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

what  you  please,  without  regard  for  me,  or  any- 
body else.  I  —  I'd  like  to  pound  you,"  she  said, 
getting  red,  clenching  her  fist.  "  I  wish  I  was 
strong  enough.  I'd  beat  you  into  a  thousand  pieces 
—  till  you  had  some  sense ! 

"  Oh,  Bill,"  she  said,  throwing  her  arms  around 
me  again,  and  reaching  up  with  the  other  hand, 
trying  to  feel  my  forehead.  "  Why  are  you  such 
an  idiot?" 

And  I  pushed  her  away  from  me. 

"  Get  away,"  I  said.  "  Let  me  alone,  will  you? 
If  there's  anything  makes  me  tired  it's  a  woman 
pawing  around  you  when  you're  sick!  " 

"  Have  it  your  own  way,"  said  Polly,  shutting 
her  mouth  together  and  leaving  the  room. 

"  You  bet  I  will,"  I  said.  And  I  turned  my  face 
over  to  the  wall  —  and  took  it,  for  the  next  three 
hours. 

There  were  several  days  that  she  and  I  didn't 
talk  on  that  main  subject  to  both  of  us.  We  kept 
off  it.  We  always  had,  on  things  like  that,  since 
we'd  lived  together. 

'  That's  one  thing  I  won't  do,"  said  Polly,  right 
after  we  got  married.  "  We  won't  have  any  argu- 
ing going  on  in  this  house.  We're  both  too  quick- 
tempered. I  didn't  marry  to  start  a  debating  so- 
ciety. If  anything  comes  up  we  can't  agree  on,  we'll 
just  drop  it,  and  cool  off."  And  that's  what  we 
always  did,  or  she  did  —  dropped  the  thing,  and 
cooled  off,  and  kept  her  mouth  shut. 

But  this  thing  couldn't  be  dropped.  It  came  up 
all  at  once,  and  it  got  going  fast,  and  had  to  be 


Word  from  New  York  261 

settled.  Within  a  week  Proctor  Billings  sent  for 
me  to  sign  up  and  confirm  that  option  that  he  could 
have  my  stock  to  hand  over  to  those  New  York 
people. 

"  It's  all  right,"  said  Polly,  when  I  told  her  what 
I  was  going  to  do  —  and  her  mouth  tightened  up. 
"I  could  stand  for  it,  I  suppose!  All  but  one 
thing!" 

"What?" 

"  Going  out  to  Detroit." 

"  Don't  be  an  obstinate  fool.  That's  one  of  the 
best  parts  of  it  for  me  —  in  a  business  way.  I'll 
just  be  getting  good  and  started  when  I  get  out 
there." 

"  I  won't  do  it,  that's  all.  I  warned  you  before- 
hand," she  said.  "  And  I  won't." 

"You  won't,  eh?" 

"  No,"  she  said,  tightening  her  lips  again.  "  I 
won't!" 

And  we  stood  and  glared  at  each  other. 

"  I  won't,"  she  said  —  and  her  face  got  white, 
starting  around  her  mouth.  "  I  told  you  I 
wouldn't,  and  I  won't.  I  won't  pull  everything  up 
again  and  move  —  the  third  time  in  six  years  — 
way  out  there." 

And  I  didn't  say  anything  for  fear  I'd  be  sorry. 

"  Oh,  Bill,"  she  said,  almost  crying.  "  Just 
when  we  got  started  so  well  here.  When  the  chil- 
dren have  got  their  little  friends!  In  three  years 
Junior  will  be  all  ready  to  go  to  Yale  with  all  the 
rest  of  the  boys." 

"And  what  else?"  I  stood  and  asked  her.     I 


262     The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

could  see  there  was  something  beside  that;  that  this 
was  only  excuses  —  the  way  women  do  —  covering 
up  the  main  thing.  "What  else?" 

"  No,  sir,"  she  said,  getting  kind  of  hysterical. 
"I  —  I  won't.  I  —  I  won't  go  to  Detroit  —  and 
you  won't,  either!  If  I've  got  to  bury  you  —  if 
you  can't  take  the  money  they  offer  you  and  get  out 
and  rest,  I'd  rather  stay  just  where  we  are  and  keep 
the  business.  I'd  rather  bury  you  here  where  I've 
got  friends,  then  out  in  Detroit,  where  we  haven't 
got  any!  " 

"  So  that's  it,"  I  said.  "  That's  what's  on  your 
mind." 

"  Yes  —  yes,  it  is,"  she  said.  "  If  you  want  the 
truth,  I'm  worried  to  death  about  you.  And  you 
know  it." 

And  then  she  kind  of  broke  down. 

"  Well,  then,  you've  got  to  get  over  it,"  I  said, 
keeping  away  from  her.  I  was  going  to  break  her 
of  that,  if  I  could.  "  Because  if  I'm  sick,  it's  mostly 
in  your  head.  Cheer  up !  "  I  said.  "  Your  im- 
agination's got  loose,  and  is  running  away  with  you. 
I'm  not  going  to  die  right  off !  " 

'  Well,  you  wouldn't  want  to  be  a  half  invalid 
all  your  life,  like  Pasc,"  she  said,  easing  up  a  little 
and  staring.  "  Just  for  nothing  at  all.  Just  for 
rushing  around  and  tearing  around  for  more  money 
—  when  we've  got  the  chance  now  to  get  out,  with 
more  money  than  we  will  ever  know  what  to  do 
with." 

"  Well,"  I  said.  "  If  that's  all  the  matter,  just  get 
it  out  of  your  head !  I'm  good  for  a  long  time  yet." 


Word  from  New  York  263 

"  You  don't  sleep  decently,  your  digestion's  all 
gone.  And  you're  smoking  all  the  time,"  said 
Polly.  "  I  know.  You've  got  to  stop  it.  You're 
going  too  fast  —  just  as  poor  Pasc  was.  Only  in  a 
different  way.  You  have  been  —  faster  and  faster 
every  year  —  since  this  started !  " 

"  Fast  your  grandmother's  foot,"  said  I. 

"  All  right,"  she  said,  her  voice  getting  sharp 
again.  "  But  remember  what  I  say.  If  you  go  to 
Detroit,  you'll  go  alone.  I  won't,  nor  the  children 
either.  You  can  go,  and  kill  yourself,  if  you  want 
to.  But  I'll  stay  right  here  with  the  children.  You 
can't  budge  me !  " 

"  We'll  see  about  that,"  said  I,  breaking  out 
again.  "  Not  on  your  life,"  I  said.  "  You  don't 
dictate  like  that  to  me !  " 

So  that  next  day  I  signed  up  and  confirmed  my 
option  with  Proctor  Billings  —  who  was  to  deliver 
it  to  the  New  York  people.  For  he  was  putting 
through  the  whole  thing.  With  my  consent.  He 
knew  how.  They  didn't  know  me  in  the  transac- 
tion—  those  New  Yorkers  —  practically  at  all; 
though  they  did  promise  me  —  with  Billings'  con- 
sent—  this  five  years'  contract  as  manager  at  De- 
troit of  the  motor  cycle  end,  that  Polly  was  so  rabid 
over.  I  went  right  along.  I  went  over  it  with 
my  lawyers,  and  I  decided  that  next  day  to  go- 
ahead  under  the  old  agreement  —  and  take  the  new 
job  at  the  same  time. 

"  We  ought  to  hear  from  them  —  get  the  money 
in  a  month,"  Billings  told  me. 

I  went  home  that  night.     I  didn't  say  anything 


264     The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

to  Polly,  or  she  to  me,  about  that.  I  didn't  have  to. 
We  knew.  It  certainly  was  a  rotten  mess.  And  it 
went  on  that  way  for  almost  a  week. 

We  didn't  talk  much  on  anything  —  she  and  I  — 
just  went  on  living,  saying  nothing,  with  this  thing 
always  between  us.  We  wouldn't  either  of  us  give 
way,  I  could  see  that.  She  was  spunkier  and  more 
set  than  I  was,  if  anything.  Daytimes  I  was  away 
from  the  house,  most  of  the  time.  But  we  slept 
together  in  one  bed  at  nights,  just  the  same  as  al- 
ways —  without  scarcely  talking  to  each  other,  ex- 
cept when  we  had  to  —  and  nothing  at  all  on  this 
one  thing  we  were  both  thinking  of.  I  woke  up 
one  night,  and  I  thought  I  heard  the  bed  shaking. 
I  thought  she  was  crying  to  herself  —  without  any 
noise.  And  then  I  made  a  motion,  and  it  stopped. 
Two  nights  after  I  thought  I  noticed  the  same  thing. 

By  this  time,  if  I  told  the  truth  to  her,  I  was  kind 
of  sick  of  it  all  myself.  I  was  feeling  kind  of  rocky 
anyway,  and  this  row  at  home  didn't  help  much, 
when  I  got  to  thinking  it  over.  I  was  almost  tired 
of  my  bargain  already.  It  seemed  to  me  Polly 
might  be  half  right  about  the  thing.  It  might  be 
a  kind  of  fool  operation,  after  all,  for  us  to  pull  up 
and  go  out  there  to  Detroit  after  living  all  our  lives 
in  this  one  place  and  got  used  to  it.  And  that  kind 
of  got  me  arguing  out  the  whole  thing  again  with 
myself. 

"What's  the  advantage  of  it?"  I  said  to  myself 
—  lying  there*  thinking  at  night,  listening  to  see  if 
she  was  going  to  start  that  silent  crying  again.  "  I 
believe  we  could  have  made  more  money,  too,  sit- 


Word  from  New  York  265 

ting  right  here,  and  running  the  business  ourselves. 

"  Running  it  ourselves,"  I  said  to  myself,  "  and 
staying  here  where  you're  known  —  and  can  be 
somebody!  Instead  of  going  out  there  and  be  a 
small  toad  in  a  great  big  puddle.  A  million  ain't 
so  much,"  I  said  to  myself,  "  compared  to  what 
you'd  make  here.  And  what's  thirty  thousand  dol- 
lars a  year  for  five  years?  " 

But  that  wasn't  the  only  thing  —  or  the  main 
thing  with  me.  I  began  to  see  that  as  the  days 
went  along.  The  fact  was,  when  it  came  right 
down  to  it,  I  hated  to  give  up  that  business  we'd 
worked  so  hard  to  build  up. 

I  felt  that  way  at  first  —  a  little.  But  it  kept 
growing  on  me.  And  it  grew  worse  as  I  saw,  right 
side  of  us,  what  Pasc  and  Zetta  were  doing  with 
themselves,  since  he  got  out  —  all  the  time  getting 
worse  and  worse,  until  finally  it  came  to  that  time 
at  their  new  housewarming. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

THE   MISSING   RUNABOUT 

They  had  been  there  several  weeks  then  —  in  that 
new  house  of  theirs  they'd  built  next  to  ours. 

Every  morning  —  pleasant  days  —  you'd  see 
Pasc  come  out  and  sit  around  the  lawn.  Polly  used 
to  call  my  attention  to  him,  before  our  row  became 
quite  so  bad. 

"  You  think  Zetta's  changed,"  said  Polly.  "  It's 
been  nothing  to  him.  See  him,"  she  said.  "  Isn't 
it  awful.  Doesn't  he  look  and  act  just  like  an  old 
man!" 

;<  There's  nothing  to  him,  any  more,"  I  said. 

"  Sitting,  staring  off,"  said  Polly. 

"Still  at  it!  He's  still  got  that  carburetor  on 
his  brain,"  I  told  her;  "that  change  he's  working 
on  for  the  poor  gasolene  and  for  the  aeroplane. 
He  can't  quite  fetch  it,  I  guess." 

"  Maybe  —  maybe  he  never  will !  "  said  Polly, 
watching  him,  sitting  there  on  a  bench  he  had,  under 
an  old  maple  tree,  getting  out  his  stub  and  scrap  of 
paper  again. 

"  Not  so  bad  as  that!  "  I  said.     "  I  guess." 

Then  she  didn't  say  anything,  answering  me. 
"  Poor  fellow,"  she  said  to  herself,  under  her 
breath.  "  He  always  looks  so  tired." 


The  Missing  Runabout  267 

"  Ain't  it  funny,"  I  said,  watching  him.  "  It's 
burning  him  up." 

"  I  don't  see  anything  funny  about  it,"  said  Polly, 
speaking  up. 

"  It's  a  queer  thing  to  watch,  just  the  same,"  I 
said. 

"  You  can  see  a  carburetor  in  his  eyes,  if  you 
look  close,  so  Zetta  says,"  said  Polly. 

"  I  believe  it,"  I  said.  I  could  almost  see  from 
that  distance  his  old  pale-blue  eyes,  peering  out 
from  back  of  those  bony  cheek  bones,  searching 
around  a  thousand  miles  off  for  something  they 
could  never  quite  find.  "  But  he's  lucky  in  one  way, 
at  that,  to  have  something  to  think  about.  Luckier 
a  lot  than  I'd  be,  if  I  ever  had  to  knock  off  busi- 
ness." 

"  Maybe,"  said  Polly,  "  though  I  don't  believe  it. 
But  that's  the  way  it's  hard  on  Zetta.  She  don't 
have  that  either  —  something  to  think  about.  And 
you  never  see  them  together  at  all.  She  says  she 
tries  her  best  every  day  with  him,  and  then  gives 
him  up  finally  to  his  carburetor." 

"And  goes  off  riding  with  her  chauffeur!"  I 
said. 

"  Yes,"   said   Polly.     "  Most  every   afternoon." 

"  It's  a  darned  outrage,"  I  said,  "  for  her  to  be- 
have so." 

"  It  doesn't  look  very  nice,"  Polly  answered  me. 

"  Are  they  still  talking  about  it?  "  I  asked  her. 

"  Yes." 

"  Just  as  much  as  ever?  " 

"  More." 


268     The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

"  She's  a  fool,"  I  said.  "  Just  a  plain  damned 
fool  —  she's  gotten  to  be !  " 

"  It's  a  shame  too,"  said  Polly.  "  There  isn't  a 
thing  wrong  about  her  —  except  this  awful  restless- 
ness. Like  a  disease." 

"  I  don't  know  which  is  worse,"  I  told  her,  "  be- 
ing crooked  or  a  plain  damned  fool.  I  don't  know 
what  does  the  most  damage.  I'm  through  caring 
about  her  now,  anyhow.  The  thing  I  care  about  is 
old  Pasc,  sitting  there,  chasing  his  invention  around 
inside  his  old  skull.  That's  all  I  care  now." 

"  I  don't.  I'm  sorry  for  them  both,"  said  Polly. 
"  You  can't  blame  it  all  on  her,"  she  said.  "  He's 
got  to  take  his  share.  He  and  his  everlasting  car- 
buretor." 

"  Following  around  after  it,"  I  said,  and  grinned, 
thinking. 

"  Like  a  man  who  sees  a  ghost,"  said  Polly, 
"beckoning;  and  has  to  follow  it,  in  the  old  stories 
those  old  people  used  to  tell." 

"  And  the  worst  of  it  is,"  she  said,  going  back  to 
Zetta  again,  "  you  can't  stop  her.  He  won't  see  it 
—  ever ;  and  the  more  she  thinks  all  the  folks  talk 
about  her,  the  more  she'll  go  right  ahead,  faster 
than  ever,  defying  them.  Everybody's  talking  — 
naturally,  everywhere." 

"  Do  you  think,"  I  said,  "  they'll  turn  out  —  the 
neighbors  around  here,  anyhow  —  at  that  dinner 
party,  when  they  open  up  the  house?  " 

"  I  think  so,"  she  answered  me.  "  Probably. 
With  what  little  we  do  —  and  with  Mrs.  Billings. 
But  she  isn't  helping  us  —  not  very  much." 


The  Missing  Runabout  269 

"  The  reckless  fool,"  I  said,  thinking  of  Zetta 
again.  'You  can't  blame  the  women  exactly! 
You  know  what  they're  calling  those  two  down  at 
the  garage  —  that  row  of  eyes  and  clean  collars  and 
dirty  mouths  along  that  wall?" 

"  No,"  said  Polly. 

"The  soul  mates!  " 

'  They  are  in  a  way,  too,"  said  Polly.  "  In  one 
way.  Both  of  them.  Both  desperate  —  kind  of 
rebels.  You  won't  see  it,"  she  said,  "  not  since  you 
had  that  row  with  him  —  but  that  boy  of  Tom's 
isn't  all  bad." 

"  He's  bad  enough,"  I  told  her,  "  so  if  you  went 
tearing  around  with  him  like  that,  I'd  kill  you." 

"  Maybe,"  said  Polly. 

"  No  maybe  to  it,"  said  I. 

We'd  done  all  we  could.  I'd  gone  to  Billings, 
practically,  after  Pasc  had  shown  me  how  he'd  like 
it  if  Zetta  could  get  in  with  nice  people,  like  Polly 
had.  I'd  practically  gone  and  asked  Billings  if  he 
wouldn't  get  his  wife  to  help  out  a  little,  and  come 
anyhow  herself.  For  they  were  neighbors  prac- 
tically, you  might  say  —  and  kind  of  leaders  on 
High  Hill.  And  what  they  said  went.  And  Bill- 
ings said  he'd  see  what  he  could  do.  And  Polly 
heard  somewhere  else  that  his  wife  was  coming,  and 
even  helping  out  a  little  —  though  it  came  pretty 
hard. 

But  Zetta,  of  course,  wouldn't  help  any  —  or 
hardly  come  half-way;  especially  when  she  took  a 
dislike  to  anybody,  the  way  she  had  to  Proctor 
Billings'  wife. 


270     The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

"  You  talk  about  Billings  —  the  human  icicle," 
she  said  to  me,  "  he's  nothing  to  his  wife.  Male 
and  female  icicles,"  she  said,  laughing  that  harsh 
laugh  of  hers,  "  and  (what  is  it  now?)  the  female 
is  more  chilly  than  the  male  —  or  something  like 
that!  "  And  made  up  a  stiff  face  like  Mrs.  Bill- 
ings. 

I  had  to  laugh,  in  spite  of  myself.  m 

"  Let  them  see  me,"  she  said  to  Polly  about  the 
same  time,  "  driving  out,  if  they  want  to.  What 
do  I  care?  I'll  go  where  I  please,  and  do  what  I 
please,  so  long  as  I  know  I'm  straight.  Whose 
business  is  it?  " 

We  two  were  pretty  well  worked  up,  especially 
Polly,  as  the  day  of  that  party  of  theirs  came  on. 
We  weren't  sure  that  we'd  get  the  women  to  recog- 
nize her  and  come  —  up  to  the  very  last  minute. 

But  the  Thomases  didn't  care  apparently.  Zet 
was  as  indifferent  as  ever,  and  old  Pasc  was  around, 
looking  off,  with  his  eyes  in  a  vise,  trying  to  tear 
that  last  wrinkle  about  that  carburetor  from  the 
back  end  of  his  brain  somewhere. 

It  was  that  way  clear  up  to  the  day  of  the  dinner 
party  itself.  Zetta  talked  absolutely  indifferent. 
It  made  you  mad  almost,  when  you  thought  of  all 
the  trouble  we'd  taken  for  her. 

"  I  don't  care.  I  wouldn't  have  cared  if  they'd 
all  stayed  away,  and  hadn't  accepted.  I  wouldn't 
have  done  it  at  all.  I  wouldn't  care  that  —  if  it 
wasn't  for  Pasc,  and  you,  Honey!  "  she  said.  And 
grabbed  Polly  in  her  arms  and  kissed  her. 

"  But  I'll  be  good.     I'll  be  stiff  as  any  old  maid 


The  Missing  Runabout  271 

you  ever  saw,"  she  said  to  her,  coming  around 
again  in  that  old-time,  good-hearted  way  of  hers. 
"  Just  tell  me  what  you  want  me  to  do,  and  I'll  do 
it." 

And  she  had  done  just  what  she  said  she  would, 
for  days  —  till  that  very  afternoon  of  the  dinner 
party. 

"  Do  you  know  what  she's  done !  "  said  Polly  — 
when  Tcame  home  to  the  house  a  little  early,  to  see 
if  I  could  do  anything. 

"No.     What?" 

"  She's  gone  out  riding  this  afternoon  in  that 
runabout  with  Tom's  boy.  Just  now !  " 

"  The  devilish  fool,"  I  said,  getting  up  out  of 
my  chair.  "  Can't  she  stop  for  a  minute?" 

"  She  told  me  she  just  had  to." 

"  Had  to !  The  whole  town  will  have  to  see 
her.  This  afternoon !  " 

"  No,"  said  Pol.  "  It  was  pretty  near  dusk, 
when  they  started.  Pretty  dark." 

"  It's  now  four  thirty,"  I  said.  "  Nearer  five. 
Think  of  it.  Two  hours  before  the  dinner!  " 

"The  real  fact  is,"  said  Polly,  "she's  nervous. 
She  hates  meeting  them  all  tonight,  like  poison  — 
all  those  women.  And  she  thinks  this  will  set  her 
up  —  brace  her.  Give  her  fresh  air!  " 

"  Yes,"  I  said  then.  "  And  what  if  anything 
happened.  If  they,  had  a  blow-out;  or  got  held  up 
anyway!  What's  she  thinking  of?  It's  dark  as 
night  right  now! 

"  What's  Pasc  doing?  "  I  asked  her. 

"  That's  the  worst  of  it,"  said  Polly.     "  Do  you 


272    The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

know  what  he's  doing — really.  He's  working  on 
that  thing  of  his  —  now!  Today!  He's  in  one 
of  those  fits  —  those  trances  when  he  thinks  he's 
discovered  something.  He's  forgotten  there  is  such 
a  thing  as  a  dinner  party." 

"  Sitting  there  alone,"  I  said,  "  like  an  absent- 
minded  child  in  the  dusk." 

"  Yes.     In  his  room  upstairs." 

"  She  ought  to  be  killed,"  I  said. 

But  I  thought,  of  course,  it  would  come  out  all 
right  —  some  way.  It  was  six  o'clock,  pretty 
nearly,  when  Pasc  called  up  and  said  Zetta  and  the 
driver  hadn't  come  yet. 

"What!"  said  I.     "Not  come!" 

I  looked  around.  Polly  stood  right  back  of 
me. 

"What  is  it?"  she  asked.     And  I  told  her. 

"  You  let  me  talk  to  him,"  she  said,  and  took 
the  telephone  away  from  me. 

"  I'm  worried,"  said  Pasc. 

"  I  don't  blame  you,"  said  Polly.  "  Now  here 
—  listen.  I'm  coming  over  to  your  house,  and  see 
that  things  are  going  right.  I've  been  there  all 
day,  anyhow.  And  Bill  will  start  right  now  to  see 
if  anything's  happened  to  them.  Any  tire  trouble." 

"  Well,  I  wish  you  would,"  Pasc  told  her.  "  If 
you  feel  you  can." 

'  You  know  we  do,"  said  Polly.  "  You  know 
that's  exactly  the  way  we  do  feel." 

"  For  I'm  getting  kind  of  worked  up,"  said  Pasc. 

"Look,"  said  Polly.  "Which  way  did  they 
go?" 


The  Missing  Runabout  273 

And  he  told  her  where  he  thought.  It  was  a 
common  road  they  often  took,  out  through  the 
woods  —  that  Rocky  Cove  road,  where  she  went 
out  to  tear  off  the  miles  in  that  fast  car.  I  knew  it 
—  a  lonely  place,  but  pretty  good  for  a  country 
road. 

"  Hurry  up,  Bill !  "  said  Polly.  "  You  haven't 
got  any  time."  And  I  ran  out  to  the  garage. 

"  I  God,"  I  said  to  myself,  driving  out  the  run- 
about, "what  does  this  mean?"  I  didn't  know 
what  to  think.  I  knew  there  was  that  road  house 
beyond  there.  I  thought  of  that  first  —  that  road 
was  the  shortest  way  there.  She  might  be  out 
there  —  drinking  a  cocktail  —  taking  a  bracer,  and 
take  too  much.  And  yet  I  couldn't  think  that 
either.  I'd  never  seen  her  drunk  —  not  more  than 
gay  at  the  furthest. 

"  I  don't  know  what  to  make  of  this,"  I  said  to 
myself,  scared.  "  Unless  it's  an  accident." 

I  was  in  a  nice  fix.  I  didn't  want  to  ask  any- 
body —  of  course  —  not  near  the  town  anyway,  if 
they'd  seen  them.  And  out  farther  it  was  too  dark 
anyway.  I  kept  plunging  on  down  the  road  I 
thought  they'd  gone  on,  trusting  to  Providence.  I 
kept  going.  I  went  deeper  and  deeper  in  the 
woods.  And  all  of  a  sudden,  I  turned  the  corner, 
and  I  saw  it! 

I  saw  this  headlight  on  the  side  of  the  road,  tilted 
up  into  the  trees.  And  this  figure  standing  in  my 
own  headlight.  I  hadn't  more  than  turned  the  cor- 
ner, when  it  jumped  up  and  stood  there  —  this 
woman  —  still,  in  that  dead  white  light.  Held  up  its 


274     The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

hands  —  and  stood  there.  And  I  saw  them  —  those 
hands ! 

I  held  up  —  with  a  bump.  Both  brakes.  I  saw 
those  hands! 

"What  is  it?  What's  happened?  Are  you 
hurt?"  I  said,  jumping  out. 

"  No,"  she  said,  "  not  a  particle." 

"Your  hands?" 

"  No."     And  stood  there  for  a  minute,  still. 

"  Look,"  she  said  —  and  started  and  kind  of 
staggered  around.  "  Look,"  she  said,  like  a  child 

—  showing  you  something  it's  found. 
And  I  started  after  her,  down  the  bank. 

il  We  were  going  around  the  corner,"  she  said. 
"  I  was  thrown !  " 

The  car  was  clear  over  —  wheels  up. 

"  Look,"  she  said,  straining  at  the  side  of  it. 
"Can't  we  raise  it?" 

"  Stop!  "  I  said.  "  You  can't  do  that!  Not  in 
a  million  years !  " 

"  I  tried  to  get  the  jack,"  she  said,  panting. 
"  But  I  couldn't  get  to  it." 

We  talked  like  people  breathing,  rather  than  just 
speaking  —  hoarse  and  whispering. 

"Where  is  he?"  I  asked  her.  It  was  dark 
under  there  —  in  the  woods.  Black  as  your  hat 

—  except  those  twisted  headlights,  cocked  up  into 
the  trees;  and  my  lights  pointing  down  the  road. 

"Where  is  he?"  I  said. 

"Under  there!  Look,"  she  said.  "You  can 
crawl  in  here."  The  car  was  kind  of  tilted  on  the 
bank, 


The  Missing  Runabout  275 

u  How  long's  it  been?  "  I  asked  her. 

"  I  don't  know,"  she  said.  "  I  don't  remember. 
But  here !  "  she  said,  hurrying  —  showing  me  this 
place  where  the  car  lay  up  against  the  bank.  "  I 
got  in  there  —  I  got  in  there !  But  all  I  had  was 
matches.  They  went  out  —  under  there  —  in  the 
wind.  I  reached  him,  but  I  couldn't  get  ahold  of 
him  —  to  pull  him  out." 

"  Wait  —  wait !  "  I  said.  "  I've  got  my  pocket 
flashlight  in  the  car."  And  I  ran  over  and  got  it. 

"Hurry!"  said  Zetta.  "Hurry!  I'll  back 
around  your  car  —  till  you  get  that  light,  too." 

And  I  went  down  under  so  I  could  poke  my  head 
in.  I  could  see  the  matches  there,  on  the  ground, 
where  she'd  been.  And  I  turned  my  eyes  up.  I 
looked  with  my  flashlight!  And  I  backed  right 
out  —  quick ! 

"  He  didn't  seem  to  breathe,"  said  Zetta  — 
"  when  I  put  my  hands  on  him." 

"No!"  said  I.  "No!  Look,"  I  said,  think- 
ing forty  times  to  the  second.  "  Nobody's  been 
here,  of  course?  " 

"  No." 

"  And  nobody's  seen  you  riding  —  that  you  know 
of?" 

"  No,"  she  said. 

"Sure?" 

"  It  was  almost  dark  when  we  started." 

"  Come  on !  "  I  told  her. 

"  Come  !  "  she  said  to  me.     "  Where  ?  " 

"  Home,"  I  said. 

"  And  leave  him  there  I  " 


276     The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

"  Come  on,"  I  told  her.  "  There's  no  time  to 
lose." 

"  But  suppose  — "  she  said. 

"  There's  no  supposing  to  it." 

"  Suppose,"  she  said.  "  He  might  be  still 
alive?" 

"Alive!  "I  said.     "That! 

"  Come  on,"  I  said  again.  "  The  first  thing 
you've  got  to  do  is  get  home.  He's  dead,"  I  said. 
"  You  know  that  —  as  well  as  I  do !  Jump  in 
now!  "  I  said,  taking  her  around  the  waist,  and 
pushing  her  toward  my  car. 

"  Come  on,"  I  told  her,  when  she  stopped. 
"  Look  —  aren't  your  hands  cut  —  any?  " 

"  No,"  she  said. 

"Sure?" 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  and  shuddered. 

"  Wipe  them  off,"  I  said,  "  on  the  grass  there  — 
what  you  can!  And  come!  Come  on,"  I  said, 
starting  pulling  her  again.  "  Be  sensible." 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do?  "  she  said,  holding 
back.  "  Leave  him !  Leave  him !  " 

"  Yes." 

"  But  suppose,"  she  said  again. 

"  There's  no  supposing  about  it,"  I  said.  "  You 
know  it!  You  saw  him!" 

And  she  shivered  against  me. 

"  Somebody'll  be  along  in  a  few  hours,"  I  said, 
pulling  her,  "  anyway.  And  you  can  thank  God 
they  haven't  been  along  before.  Before  I  did! 
And  now,  the  quicker  we  get  out  of  here  the  bet- 
ter!" 


The  Missing  Runabout  277 

"Where  are  you  going?  What  are  you  do- 
ing?" she  said,  resisting  me  all  she  could  —  when 
I  put  her  in  my  runabout. 

"  You're  going  home,"  I  said,  "  with  me!  He's 
dead.  But  you  aren't.  Nor  the  rest  of  us ! 
You're  going  home.  You're  going  home  and  get 
ready  for  that  dinner  party! 

"  You  know  what  will  happen,"  I  said,  holding 
her,  when  she  started  struggling  again,  "  if  you 
ain't  there.  If  they  all  come  there  —  and  find 
you're  out  here  —  in  a  car,  with  him  —  smashed  up 
against  a  tree  —  joy  riding!  You  know  what  it 
will  mean. 

'  You're  no  fool,"  I  said.  "  You  know  what's 
been  brewing  about  this  —  and  how  long.  This 
will  be  the  end." 

"  What  do  I  care?  "  she  said  to  me,  in  a  kind  of 
low  voice  — "  what  they  say?  " 

[t  It  isn't  what  you  care,"  I  said,  "  now.  It's 
what  we  care  —  the  rest  of  us.  You've  got  to 
care  —  for  us !  " 

But  she  wouldn't  give  in  still. 

"  And  the  newspapers,"  I  said.  "Think  of  it! 
Smearing  it  all  over  the  face  of  the  earth  —  on  all 
of  us.  Come,  you've  got  to!  " 

"  And  sit  up  there  —  hours  at  dinner,  and 
smile!" 

"  Yes." 

"  At  that  Mrs.  Billings  —  and  those  others  — 
those  awful  things!  "  she  said,  drawing  back. 

"  You've  got  to.  You've  got  to  go  home  and  go 
through  with  it." 


278     The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

"  No,  sir,  I  can't,"  she  said.     "  I  won't." 

"  Zet,"  I  told  her,  taking  her  wrists.  "  be  a  sport. 
Remember,"  I  said,  shaking  her.  "You  ain't  the 
only  one  that's  got  a  stake  in  this.  Remember  the 
rest  of  us.  Remember  Pasc  — " 

"  But  what's  the  use !  "  she  asked  me.  "  What's 
it  for?" 

"  We're  going  to  take  a  chance,"  I  said,  "  that 
nobody'll  ever  know  that  you  were  here.  It's  a 
long  one,  but  we're  going  to  take  it  just  the  same." 

She  let  up  some  on  her  drawing  back.  I  felt  her 
body  yield  a  little. 

"  Come,"  I  kept  urging,  "Zet!  You've  got  to. 
Think  of  the  rest  of  us  —  if  you  don't  of  yourself. 
If  you  ever  want  to  hold  your  head  up  again  in 
this  town,"  I  said,  "  or  Pasc!  Pasc,"  I  said. 

"  Come  on,"  she  called  out  all  at  once,  sitting 
back  in  the  car  without  my  holding  her. 

"  That's  right,"  I  told  her.  "  That's  the  girl. 
Now,"  I  said,  closing  the  door,  "  we'll  get  home  as 
quick  as  God'll  let  us.  We'll  snatch  the  head  of 
it!" 

"  Don't  talk!  "  said  Zetta,  in  this  strange  voice. 
"Don't  talk  to  me!" 

I  turned  and  started  —  with  a  bang  —  jumped 
into  high  and  went!  Around  the  corner,  away 
from  those  two  bright  green  spots,  those  ugly  head- 
lights cocked  up  into  the  trees  —  out  into  the  dark ! 
Down  the  crooked  country  road  we  went  —  I  let 
her  out  for  home  —  racing  as  if  the  devil  was  after 
us.  Saying  nothing,  either  one  of  us. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

A   HOUSEWARMING 

"  Bill !  "  said  Zetta,  just  before  we  got  there. 

"  Yes." 

"  Not  a  word.  Not  a  word  to  Pasc,  until  it's 
over.  Unless  we  have  to !  " 

"  You're  right,"  I  said. 

"  I'm  afraid  he  couldn't  stand  it.  He  couldn't 
go  through  with  it  —  especially  the  way  he's  been 
feeling  lately.  He'd  show  it  someway." 

"What'll  we  tell  him?"  I  said  —  thinking  for 
the  first  time  how  it  was  going  to  affect  him  —  the 
shock  of  it. 

"  You  leave  that  to  me,"  said  Zetta. 

'  What  will  you  tell  him  about  your  dress  and 
hands?" 

"  I'm  going  to  stop  at  your  house  a  second  — 
and  wash  up.  You  go  on  ahead  of  me,"  she  said, 
"  so  the  servants  won't  see  me." 

And  I  got  her  in  —  we  walked  right  in,  with  my 
latchkey,  nobody  the  wiser. 

"  Polly's  over  to  your  house,"  I  said. 

"  Get  her  on  the  'phone,"  she  told  me,  "  while 
I'm  washing." 

So  I  did. 

"What  is  it?"  said  Polly. 

"  It's  all  right,"  I  said.     "  Just  tire  trouble. 


280     The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

"  It  was  more  than  that,"  I  said,  lowering  my 
voice.  "  But  you  tell  Pasc  that !  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Polly,  whispering  herself.  "  She's 
all  right?" 

"Absolutely  —  yes.  It's  him!"  I  whispered 
back.  "  But  now,  listen  —  she's  going  to  walk 
over  now  from  here,  to  the  side  door.  She  said  not 
to  let  the  servants  see  her." 

"That's  all  right,"  said  Polly.  "That's  all 
right,  anyhow.  I  lied.  I  told  the  servants  she 
was  over  at  my  house,  resting,  to  get  rid  of  the  ex- 
citement. But  hurry  up  !  Hurry  up !  Hurry  up ! 
There's  only  half  an  hour  now!  And  you'd  better 
come  over  with  her,  I  think  —  and  take  care  of 
Pasc  for  a  minute." 

"  Come  now,"  said  Polly,  at  the  door  when  we 
got  there.  "Hurry  up.  Have  you  overslept?" 
she  said  louder.  "  You  crazy  thing?  " 

And  they  two  went  upstairs  together. 

"What  was  it,  anyhow?"  said  Pasc. 

"  Tire  trouble,"  I  told  him. 

"Oh?"  he  said,  back  in  that  absent-minded  way 
again. 

;;  Well,  I  certainly  was  glad  you  helped  me  out 
—  got  her  home  in  time !  "  he  said  —  as  if  it  was 
all  right,  and  the  most  usual  thing  in  the  world  for 
a  woman  to  drift  in  at  that  time  for  her  first  big 
dinner  party  in  her  own  house. 

u  I've  got  to  run  back  and  change  my  own 
clothes,"  I  said,  when  I'd  told  him  that  Powers 
would  be  back  with  the  car  later. 

'  You're    good    friends,    good    neighbors,"    said 


A  Housewarming  281 

Pasc,  letting  me  out — "you  and  Polly.  I  don't 
know  what  we'd  do  without  you." 

I  had  to  rush  my  head  off  —  at  that,  especially 
without  Polly  there  to  help  me  dressing.  I  was  one 
of  the  last  ones  to  get  in.  Zetta  was  down  —  all 
dressed  up  and  fixed  up  —  and  Polly  was  standing 
with  her. 

"  Christmas,"  I  said  to  myself,  when  I  first  saw 
them.  "  Women  certainly  are  the  great  things  — 
at  a  time  like  this !  " 

I  never  saw  Zetta  look  so  well  in  my  life  —  her 
eyes  so  bright  or  her  lips  so  blood  red.  And  I 
never  heard  her  talk  more  or  easier.  And  Polly 
just  the  same!  And  yet  I  could  see,  myself  — 
looking  at  her  —  that  she  knew !  That  Zetta'd 
told  her. 

It  was  different  with  me.  I  was  all  in  —  all  over 
myself.  I  almost  started  eating  my  oysters  with  a 
teaspoon,  thinking.  Thinking  of  that  light,  cocked 
up  in  the  trees,  calling  for  help  —  and  wondering 
when  the  telephone  would  ring.  I  didn't  say  any- 
thing much. 

"  She's  such  a  very  lively  woman,  isn't  she?  "  said 
the  woman  next  to  me,  looking  up  —  that  old  man 
Rutherford's  wife  that  made  his  money  on  mail 
boxes;  that  woman  who  gushed  so  much  over  every- 
body, and  then  went  off  and  bit  them  in  the  back. 

"Who?"  said  I,  coming  back  to  earth  again. 
I'd  just  thought  I  heard  the  telephone!  "Who? 
Mrs.  Thomas?  You  bet.  She's  the  liveliest  thing 
that  ever  happened." 

"  So  vigorous,"  she  said. 


282     The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

"  Yes,"  I  answered,  listening  still. 

"  So  vigorous  —  so  full  of  life.  She  scarcely 
knows  how  to  keep  it  in,  does  she?  "  she  said,  giv- 
ing me  a  look  to  see  how  I  would  take  it. 

It  made  me  shiver,  listening,  to  think  what  they'd 
do  with  her,  the  women  —  if  they  once  got  their 
teeth  in  this  thing. 

"  Bubbling  over,"  she  said,  sheering  off  when  she 
didn't  get  any  rise  out  of  me.  "  Especially  tonight, 
and  her  dress  is  so  lovely.  That  wonderful  color 

—  so  striking!  " 

"  Yes,  indeed,"  said  I,  talking  like  an  idiot. 

I  was  wondering  all  the  time  whether  I  ought  to 
have  left  that  light  going  in  that  car  —  whether 
somebody  would  find  it  too  soon.  And  yet  it 
wouldn't  have  worked  right  —  what  I  wanted  to  do 

—  unless  I'd  done  just  what  I  did. 

I  sat  listening  for  that  telephone,  all  the  time. 
Polly  had  given  them  orders  to  call  me;  she'd  told 
me  that  just  before  we  started  in  to  dinner.  "  Look 
out  for  it  now,"  she  said,  "  every  minute !  " 

I  sat  and  listened,  all  the  time,  like  a  fireman 
waiting  for  a  third  alarm  —  taking  a  glance,  every 
now  and  then,  at  my  watch,  under  the  table. 

"  This  thing,"  I  said  to  myself,  "  ought  to  be 
over  by  eleven  o'clock.  And  it  might  be  they 
wouldn't  run  across  him,  or  they  wouldn't  recognize 
him  till  afterwards  —  way  out  there  ten  miles 
away. 

"  Lord,  I  hope  so,"  I  said  to  myself,  and  hung 
on,  waiting. 

"  She  seems  to  be  having  such  a  lively  time  to- 


A  Housewarming  283 

night,  doesn't  she?"  said  this  Mrs.  Rutherford. 
"  I  love  to  see  her.  She's  so  lovely  to  look  at  and 
kind  of  unaffected.  That's  what  I  like  about  her. 
And  your  wife,  Mr.  Morgan,"  she  said,  laying  it  on 
as  thick  as  she  knew  how.  "  I  think  she  is  so 
lovely." 

"  Glad  you  do,"  said  I,  sitting  up.  For  just  then 
the  telephone  rang. 

One  of  the  servant  girls  they  had  waiting  on  them 
came  around  and  spoke  to  me. 

"  Hello,"  said  this  big  husky  voice  at  the  tele- 
phone. "  Your  name  Thomas'?  " 

"  Yeah,"  I  said,  right  off  —  taking  a  chance  at 
what  was  coming. 

"  You  missed  your  car?  " 

"No.     Why?"  said  I. 

"What's  your  number  plate?"  he  wanted  to 
know. 

And  I  gave  him  Pasc's. 

"  That's  the  one.  It's  yours  all  right.  That's 
the  one !  "  said  this  fellow  on  the  'phone,  talking  up 
as  if  he  was  glad  to  know  it.  '  Your  chauffeur's 
been  out  this  evening  —  on  a  joy  ride.  Once  too 
often." 

"  Too  often!  "  said  I,  after  him. 

"  A  red-headed  man  —  a  young  fellow?  " 

"  That's  the  one,"  said  I,  getting  hoarser  and 
hoarser,  as  I  talked. 

"  Well,  he  won't  bother  you  any  more." 

"Why  not?"  said  I. 

"He's  got  his  —  this  time!  " 

"  Got  his,"  I  said,  hoarser  still.     "  How  bad?  " 


284     The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

"  Dead,"  said  the  voice.  "  All  ground  up  under 
the  car.  What'll  we  do  about  him,"  he  said,  "  and 
the  car." 

"  Who  are  you?  "  I  asked  him. 

"  The  police  office,"  he  said,  "  out  in  Rocky 
Cove." 

So  I  told  him  what  to  do,  and  where  to  send  the 
body,  and  the  car.  "  I  can't  come  out  tonight,"  I 
told  him.  "  I'm  giving  a  dinner  party." 

"Ah-ha,"  he  said.  "That's  how  it  happened! 
He  thought  he'd  take  the  car  out  on  you?  You'd 
think  they'd  learn  more,  after  awhile,  but  they 
don't!" 

"  I  can't  get  out,"  I  said.  "  But  you  take  care  of 
me,  will  you  —  neighbor,"  I  said  to  him;  "  all  you 
can?  I  can't  get  out,  so  I'm  going  to  ask  you  to 
look  out  for  us.  Take  care  of  me,  will  you?  "  I  re- 
peated. "  We  all  need  a  friend  now  and  then,"  I 
told  him. 

"  You  bet  we  do,"  said  he. 

"  Well,  this  is  the  time  I  need  one.  Your  time 
might  come  later." 

"  That's  right  too,  Mr.  Thomas,"  said  he. 

"  Well,  you'll  know  where  to  find  one,"  I  said, 
and  he  didn't  say  anything. 

"All  right  then;  I  leave  it  to  you.  You  won't 
lose  anything  by  it,"  I  said.  And  I  got  his  name. 
"  And  if  you  want  to  know  anything  later,  and  call 
again,  just  call  for  William  Morgan." 

"  I  know,"  said  the  voice  again. 

"  He's  the  man  who'll  take  care  of  you." 

"  All  right,  boss." 


A  Housewarming  285 

"  I  won't  forget  this,"  said  I.  "  I  ain't  that 
kind." 

"  Don't  mention  it,  Mr.  Thomas,"  said  the  cop. 

"And  oh  —  say!"  I  said.  "Don't  say  any- 
thing about  it  to  the  newspaper  boys  yet !  Hold  it 
up  a  little  for  us.  Don't  give  it  out  to  the  news- 
papers until  after  we're  through  here." 

"How  long?" 

"  Oh,  say  eleven  thirty." 

"  Sure." 

"  And  when  you  do  send  them  around,  or  have 
them  call  —  have  them  call  for  Morgan,  too,  see?  " 

"  Sure.     I'm  on,"  said  the  cop  at  Rocky  Cove. 

I  knew  that  was  all  right  there,  anyway.  And  1 
went  back  and  sat  down  again.  I  found  myself  stick- 
ing my  napkin  in  at  my  neck,  and  Polly  glaring  at  me, 
before  I  caught  myself. 

"  Business,  I  suppose,"  said  this  Mrs.  Ruther- 
ford, next  to  me,  making  eyes.  "  Oh,  you  men  — 
you  men !  "  she  said,  getting  giddy.  "  Can't  you 
let  it  alone  for  a  minute?" 

And  we  went  on  through  it  all.  I'm  proud  of  it 
sometimes  —  right  through  from  oysters  to  cigars, 
sitting  there,  we  three,  pushing  her  through  like 
little  majors  —  Zetta  and  Polly  making  a  better 
show  than  I  ever  saw  them.  Right  up  in  G,  laugh- 
ing and  talking.  I  kept  watching  them  to  see  what 
I  was  going  to  do,  whenever  there  was  any  doubt. 

And  finally  we  got  them  all  out  to  the  front  door 
—  every  one  of  them. 

"  Listen,"  I  said  to  Billings,  catching  him  on  the 
piazza,  as  he  was  going.  "  There's  been  an  acci- 


286    The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

dent  while  we  were  in  here.  That  damn  fool 
chauffeur  —  you  know,  that  Powers  —  has  taken 
advantage  and  been  out  on  a  joy  ride  with  their 
runabout  —  and  killed  himself!  " 

He  whistled  to  himself.     "  Dead!  "  he  said. 

"  Deader  than  a  smelt,"  I  told  him.  "  Under 
the  car.  I  got  it  on  the  'phone." 

"  They  don't  know  it,"  he  said  — "  the  family?  " 

"  No,"  I  said.  "  I  got  up  and  answered  the 
'phone  myself.  You  saw  me." 

"  Yes." 

"  It  wouldn't  do,"  I  said.  "  It  wouldn't  do  for 
the  women  to  know  —  while  this  was  going  on." 

"  No,"  he  said  —  and  stopped,  thinking. 
"Dead!"  he  said,  and  whistled  again,  and  lifted 
up  his  eyebrows.  "  You  did  exactly  right,"  he 
told  me. 

"  But  now,"  I  said,  "  of  course,  when  you're  out, 
I  wish  you'd  tell  Mrs.  Billings;  and  you  two  can 
tell  any  of  the  others  —  if  you  think  it's  the  best 
thing.  I'll  leave  that  to  you,"  I  said. 

"  It  serves  him  right,"  said  Billings,  looking  at 
me,  thinking  it  out,  "  in  a  way;  that  kind  of  chauf- 
feur, taking  an  expensive  car  out  like  that  —  with- 
out your  consent.  It's  a  lesson,  to  the  rest  of  them. 
You  can't  be  sure  now  whether  you've  got  a  car  left 
or  not.  I'll  tell  Mrs.  Billings,"  he  said,  and  went  off 
to  his  car. 

I  saw  that  end  of  it  was  all  right,  too.  Mrs. 
Billings  would  tell  everybody  first;  and  that  would 
be  the  story  that  she'd  tell  —  and  stick  to,  whatever 
happened. 


A  Housewarming  287 

And  right  after  that  the  newspaper  boys  called, 
and  I  gave  them  the  right  steer. 

u  I'm  speaking  for  Mr.  Thomas  in  this,"  I  said, 
coming  to  the  door.  They  all  knew  me,  of  course. 

"  You  can't  see  him,"  I  said.  "  He's  all  broken 
up  by  this  thing.  You  know  what  that  boy  did  for 
us,  when  we  first  started  —  riding  a  machine.  He 
thought  the  world  of  him,  and  it's  got  him  pretty 
bad.  He  ain't  very  well,  just  now,  anyway. 

"  Come   on  over  to  the   house,  boys,"   I   said, 
"  just  across  the  lawn,  and  I'll  tell  you  all  about 
it." 

So  I  took  them  over,  and  handed  out  the  cigars, 
and  sat  down  with  them,  and  gave  them  their 
story. 

"  That's  what  comes  of  being  a  Speed  King," 
said  the  tall,  long-legged  one,  with  the  pale  face, 
and  black  stringy  hair,  who  pocketed  my  cigar  and 
smoked  his  own  cigarettes. 

"You've  got  that  right!  "  said  I. 

"  They  all  get  it,  sooner  or  later,"  said  another 
one. 

"  Right,"  said  I,  and  tapped  him  on  the  shoulder. 

"  There's  a  good  story  in  that,"  said  the  white- 
faced  one,  with  the  black  hair  —  the  older  one. 
"  The  New  York  papers  would  take  that.  He  had 
quite  a  reputation  as  a  rider." 

"  Yes,  but  keep  it  down,  boys,  all  you  can,  will 
you?  It  would  be  a  great  favor  to  us.  I  don't 
want  to  dictate  to  you,  but  you  can  see  how  we  all 
feel  about  it.  It  was  an  awful  shock  —  happening 
just  while  this  party  was  going  on,  full  blast,  and 
everything. 


288    The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

"  Do  what  you  can,  boys,  anyway,"  I  said. 
"  And  any  time  you  want  anything  more  on  it,"  I 
said,  "  you  just  come  to  me.  Do  that  much.  Mr. 
Thomas  ain't  well  at  all." 

"  Sure,"  they  said.     "  We'll  see  to  that." 

"  And  any  time  I  can  do  anything  else  for  you, 
boys,"  I  told  them,  letting  them  out  the  door,  "  you 
come  right  to  me.  Don't  you  hesitate  a  minute. 
Ease  up  on  this,  boys,"  I  said,  "  what  you  can.  I'll 
appreciate  it,  and  I  might  be  able  to  do  something 
for  you  sometime.  You  never  can  tell." 

I  saw  then  that  that  was  all  right  —  watching 
them.  They  hadn't  gotten  anything,  and  they 
wouldn't,  unless  something  slipped. 

So  I  went  back  again  to  Pasc's  house. 

"  We've  got  it  fixed,  I  guess,"  I  said  to  Polly,  in 
the  front  hall  — "  my  end.  How  is  it  here?  How 
about  the  servants?" 

'  They  don't  know  anything  about  it,"  said  Polly. 
"  They  believe  me  —  what  I  told  them,  that  she 
was  over  to  our  house." 

"  Then  we've  done  it,"  said  I.  "  We've  kept  the 
thing  quiet."  And  I  sat  down  in  the  chair  in  the 
hall  and  wiped  my  forehead.  "  Gripes,  what  a 
wrestle !  " 

It  seemed  as  if  I'd  been  stretched  out  on  a  rack 
for  months. 

'They  in  there?"  I  whispered,  after  a  minute, 
nodding  toward  the  library. 

And  she  nodded  back. 

"She  told  him?"  I  whispered.  "How  did  he 
take  it?" 


A  Housewarming  289 

"  Pretty  hard,"  said  Polly.  "  He's  terribly 
broken  up." 

"About  what?"  I  said,  whispering.  "About 
the  boy?" 

And  Polly  nodded  her  head  again. 

And  then  I  heard  Zetta's  voice  in  the  other  room, 
as  if  she'd  just  heard  me  come  in.  "  Bill,"  she 
called,  "is  that  you?  Come  in  here.  And  you 
too,  Polly." 

So  we  went  in.  Pasc  sat  there,  hunched  up  in 
the  chair.  She  stood  there  before  him,  waiting  — 
standing  up  with  that  gay  expensive  flame-colored 
dress  on  —  her  shoulders  white,  and  her  face,  and 
her  great  wonderful  lot  of  dark  hair  over  it. 

"  Now  you're  here,  Bill,"  she  said,  standing 
straight  and  still,  "  I  want  to  thank  you  for  —  to- 
night. Something  I  guess  I  can  never  thank  you  for 
—  really.  You  saved  me  —  my  reputation,  Bill.  I 
can  see  that  now.  I  appreciate  it." 

And  Pasc  made  a  noise  in  his  throat,  as  if  he  was 
trying  to  say  something  and  couldn't. 

"  Oh,  forget  it,  Zet,"  I  said.  "  It's  been  a  hard 
night  for  all  of  us.  What  we  need  now  is  bed." 

But  she  stood  there,  not  moving,  looking  at  me, 
standing  stiff,  with  the  white  rims  of  her  eyes  show- 
ing all  around  those  deep  black  pupils. 

"  That  isn't  all,  Bill,"  she  said,  holding  out  that 
smooth  white  arm  of  hers  —  for  me  to  stay  there. 
"That  isn't  all.  Now  I've  said  that  —  now  it's 
done  —  I  want  to  know  something  else.  I  want  to 
ask  you  something  —  all  of  you.  But  you  and 
Pasc  especially. 


290    The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

"  Did  either  of  you  ever  think  I  was  crooked 
with  that  boy?"  she  said,  looking  me  straight  in 
my  eyes. 

"  Zetta !  "  said  Pasc,  with  a  kind  of  hoarse  voice, 
coming  up  on  to  his  feet. 

"  Zet,"  I  said.     "  For  God's  sake !  " 

"  I  mean  it,"  she  said. 

"Zet,"  I  said,  warning  her  with  my  eyes  —  try- 
ing to,  about  Pasc.  "  You  must  be  crazy.  What 
makes  you  ask  such  a  question?  What  do  you 
think  we  are?  " 

"  Because  I  had  to,"  she  went  on,  paying  no  at- 
tention to  me.  "  Because  you  might  think  some- 
thing else.  You  had  a  right  to." 

"A  right  to!"  Polly  cried  out  loud.  I  caught 
my  breath,  staring. 

"  Yes,"  said  Zetta,  watching  me.  "  Because  you 
were  right,  and  I  was  wrong." 

"What  about?" 

I  looked  at  Pasc.  His  face  was  terrible,  waiting 
to  hear. 

"  About  him !  "  she  kept  on.  "  About  that  — 
you  told  me." 

I  stood  stock-still;  we  all  did  —  waiting.  Pasc 
looked  like  a  man  you  see  sometimes  struck  in  the 
head. 

"  I  was  driving,"  she  said  in  this  low  voice,  like 
somebody  talking  in  their  sleep.  "  Rather  fast. 
Coming  back.  He  had  been  perfectly  still  —  all 
the  ride. 

"All  at  once,"  she  said  —  and  her  face  got  red- 
der than  that  flame-colored  dress,  "  All  at  once. 


THAT  S    WHY    I    THOUGHT    YOU    WKBK    ALWAYS    WRONU  —  HECAUSB 

you  HATED  HIM!"     Page  291. 


A  Housewarming  291 

he  tried  —  he  tried He  said  something.  He 

must  have  been  crazy  I  " 

I  watched  Pasc.  It  was  awful.  His  eyes,  and 
his  face,  like  old  yellow  wax  —  all  the  blood  out  of 
it.  But  she  went  right  along.  "  He  must  have 
been  crazy!  "  she  said,  stopping,  and  looking  ahead 
of  her. 

"  Or  drunk,"  I  said,  cursing  him. 

"  I  struck  him,"  she  said,  staring  at  me,  for 
breaking  in  on  her.  "  In  the  face.  I  forgot  — 
everything.  I  struck  him.  Both  hands !  Just  as 
we  hit  the  corner.  I  killed  him,  I  killed  him!  "  she 
said.  "And  I'm  glad  of  it!" 

"  Forget  it,"  I  said.  "  The  damned  dog.  He 
isn't  worth  it." 

"  I  do,"  she  said,  her  breast  rising  and  falling. 
"  I  will.  But  I've  got  to  say  this  now." 

I  looked  at  Pasc.  The  blood  had  started  com- 
ing back  in  his  face  now  —  with  a  rush. 

"  Never  before !  "  she  said,  staring  straight  at 
me.  "  In  all  that  time.  Not  a  word  from  him. 
Not  a  suggestion.  He  was  like  a  young  boy  I  al- 
ways knew,  and  wanted  to  be  good  to.  Never  be- 
fore —  till  tonight.  Not  one  sign.  Do  you  be- 
lieve me?  " 

"  Certainly  I  believe  you,"  I  said.  "  Why 
wouldn't  I?" 

"  In  all  that  time,"  she  went  on.  u  That's  why 
I  thought  you  were  always  wrong  —  because  you 
hated  him!  But  that's  why  now  —  I  thought,  now 
—  you  thought,  perhaps  — "  she  said,  and  faced 
me. 


292    The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

"  Never  in  my  life !  "  I  answered,  looking  her  in 
the  eyes. 

If  you'd  ever  had  an  idea  she  was  wrong,  you 
wouldn't  any  longer,  looking  into  those  eyes. 

"  And  nobody  else  that  knew  you,"  said  Polly. 

"  I  was  a  fool!  "  she  said.  "  I  was  a  fool!  But 
did  you  ever  —  any  of  you,  think  that  about  me  for 
a  minute?  " 

"  Zetta !  "  said  Polly.  "  How  could  you  say 
that!" 

"  Never,"  I  said.     "  For  a  minute." 

"I  wanted  to  know!"  she  said,  and  her  lips 
twitched,  just  a  little,  for  the  first  time.  "  It  means 
something  to  me  —  with  you  three  !  " 

"  Zet,"  I  said,  speaking  with  my  lips  —  and 
moved  my  head  over  a  little!  "  Pasc!  " 

For  I'd  seen  him  standing  there  then  —  catching 
at  the  table. 

He  began  to  sink  back  towards  his  chair.  But 
he'd  hardly  slouched  back  into  it,  before  she  was  at 
him, —  all  over  him. 

"Pasc,"  she  said,  clutching  at  him,  "Pascl 
Have  I  hurt  you?  Have  I  hurt  you,  Pasc?  Have 
I  hurt  you  ?  " 

And  Polly  ran  upstairs  for  the  spirits  of  am- 
monia. 

He  came  right  around  again. 

"  It's  time  we  went  home,"  I  said  to  Polly,  after 
a  few  minutes.  "  You  don't  want  me  to  help  you 
upstairs,  or  anything?  "  I  asked  Pasc. 

"  No,"  he  said,  with  that  quick  old  disappearing 
smile  of  his.  "  It's  nothing." 


A  Housewarming  293 

"  I'll  get  him  up.  I'll  take  care  of  him,"  said 
Zetta.  She  looked  bigger  and  stronger  than  he  did 
at  that. 

So  we  let  ourselves  out  of  the  house,  and  she 
stayed  there  with  him  in  the  library.  When  we  got 
our  things  on,  and  went  by  their  door,  through  the 
hall,  she  was  there  beside  him  on  her  knees,  kind  of 
straining  him  to  her.  Patting  him  on  his  cheeks  — 
like  a  little  girl  pats  her  doll,  or  a  young  kitten,  or 
anything  it  thinks  is  weak  and  needs  mothering. 

"  Whew!  God!  "  I  said  to  Polly,  when  we  two 
were  outside. 

"  Did  you  notice  him?  "  she  asked  me. 

"Why?" 

"  He  acted  to  me  just  like  a  man  who's  had  a 
little  shock." 

"  He  did  to  me  for  a  second,"  said  I  — "  just  for 
the  minute.  But  I  don't  believe  he  did." 

"  It  won't  help  him  any,"  said  Polly.  "  His 
health.  That's  the  way  you'll  be  some  day!  "  she 
said  —  all  of  a  sudden;  her  voice  getting  sharp. 
"  If  you  keep  on  going." 

"  Drop  it!  "  I  said.  "  Don't  you  start  that  to- 
night! " 

And  we  let  ourselves  in  the  house,  and  went  up- 
stairs, and  went  to  bed. 

I  just  lay  there  and  rolled  around.  And  sud- 
denly I  sat  up!  And  wanted  to  light  up.  I  saw 
that  thing  I  saw  with  my  pocket  searchlight  under 
the  automobile. 

"What  is  it?"  said  Polly,  sitting  up  too. 
"  Can't  you  get  to  sleep,  any  way?" 


294    The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

"  No  more  than  you  can,"  I  said. 

"  I  know,"  she  said. 

"It  served  him  right!  "  I  said,  finally  —  to  say 
something  about  him.  I  had  to! 

Polly  lay  still,  and  said  nothing. 

"  It  served  them  both  right  in  a  way." 

But  she  didn't  answer  yet  —  anything;  lay  there 
thinking,  apparently. 

"What  a  mess  it's  been,"  I  said — "the  whole 
thing.  If  he'd  been  satisfied  to  go  to  work, —  that 
boy,  like  other  people.  If  she  hadn't  had  to  go 
chasing  around  like  a  crazy  woman,  top  speed,  a 
hundred  miles  an  hour,  hurrying  around,  looking 
for  excitement  —  all  the  time  out  after  something 
new  —  this  thing  would  never  have  happened. 

"  But  after  all,"  I  said,  rolling  back  again,  "  why 
should  we  care?  He  just  got  what  was  coming  to 
him  —  the  damned  dog !  " 

"No,"  said  Polly,  finally  —  lying  still  —  answer- 
ing after  awhile,  speaking  with  long  breaks  in  her 
talk  —  the  way  she  did  when  she  was  thinking. 
"  No.  He  wasn't  to  blame  —  entirely  —  nor  she." 

"He  wasn't,"  I  said — "or  she!  Who  was, 
then?" 

"  Everything,"  she  said  —  thinking. 

"Everything!" 

"The  life  we  lead  —  the  speed  we've  all  been 
going  at." 

And  she  stopped  —  and  lay  absolutely  still. 

"  Speed,"  she  said  then,  after  awhile.  "  All  of 
us.  Faster  and  faster  —  all  together!  Speed!" 
she  said.  "  Everywhere  —  everywhere  —  always. 


A  Housewarming  295 

Faster,  faster  —  just  a  little  faster  1  It  seems  some- 
times as  if  we  were  all  going  crazy." 

And  then  she  kept  still. 

I  lay  there  —  on  my  back,  staring  till  morning  — 
seeing  that  boy  of  Tom's  there  under  that  car. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

A   MILLION   DOLLARS  —  HUH  I 

I  was  raw,  every  way,  those  next  few  days  —  all 
over;  as  if  I  had  been  scrubbed  bleeding  with  sand- 
paper. We  had  it  all  covered  up  —  about  Zetta 
and  the  accident  —  so  far  as  the  newspapers  and 
the  rest  were  concerned.  I  was  sure  of  that  the 
next  day. 

But  I  couldn't  get  the  thing  off  my  mind  —  es- 
pecially after  Polly  and  I  had  been  down  the  next 
morning  to  see  Tom  Powers  and  his  wife. 

Pasc  wasn't  any  better  for  the  thing,  either, — 
though  he  claimed  he  was  all  right  enough,  after 
a  day  or  two.  But  I  could  tell  from  his  motions 
around  the  yard,  and  more  so  after  Polly  called 
my  attention  to  it.  He  didn't  walk  right,  she 
claimed  —  not  quite  straight,  after  that.  I  never 
could  tell,  myself,  whether  it  was  her  imagination 
or  not. 

My  mind  kept  turning  day  and  night.  I  lay 
nights  thinking  this  thing  over  —  the  business,  and 
my  selling  out  and  going  to  Detroit  to  live,  and 
my  row  with  Polly.  The  more  I  thought  of  it  all, 
the  sorer  I  got;  and  the  more  I  wished  I'd  just 
stayed  there,  in  the  place  where  I  was  born,  and 
run  my  own  business  that  I'd  built  up  myself. 

;'  What's  a  million  dollars,"  I  said,  "  any  dif- 
ferent than  what  I've  got  now  ?  I'll  have  to  reinvest 


A  Million  Dollars — Huh!  297 

it  somewhere  and  lose  it  maybe  !  And  what  will  I  do 
myself?  I'll  go  out  there,  under  these  fellows,  and 
be  somebody  else's  hired  man,  when  I'd  been  used  to 
running  my  own  business  to  suit  myself.  How  sure 
do  you  suppose  they'll  be  to  keep  me,  after  my 
contract's  up  ?  How  do  I  know  how  I'll  get  along, 
working  under  somebody  else?" 

I  got  sorer  every  time  I  thought  of  it,  and  sicker 
of  my  bargain.  And  I  felt  rotten  —  especially 
after  that  thing  happened.  My  digestion  wasn't 
any  better.  I  was  all  out  of  joint  everywhere  — 
uglier  than  a  bear;  and  worst  of  all  when  I  was  in 
talking  the  change  over  —  the  arrangements  for  the 
transfer  of  the  business  —  with  Proctor  Billings. 
He  was  so  devilish  cold  and  fishy  about  the  whole 
thing  —  and  particularly  some  of  the  folks  that 
had  worked  with  us  a  good  while,  and  couldn't  get 
out  to  Detroit.  He  didn't  care  a  hoot  what  did 
become  of  them. 

I  remember  asking  him,  as  one  special  favor,  to 
keep  old  Tom  Powers  at  something  —  because  he 
couldn't  break  loose  at  his  age,  naturally  —  and  his 
lifting  up  his  eyebrows  and  saying  that  he'd  see ! 

"  That's  the  way  they  get,"  to  myself,  "  when 
they've  always  had  everything;  and  never  knew 
what  it  was  to  be  down  with  the  rest  of  the  folks. 
They  ain't  human." 

He  sat  there,  still  and  polished,  beside  his  vase  of 
flowers  on  his  desk.  Orchids,  they  were  now  —  his 
new  orchids,  from  his  own  greenhouse.  He  got  on 
me  wrong,  all  the  time  —  but  especially  that  last 
day! 


298    The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

I  went  over  from  the  bank  to  the  office  in  my  ma- 
chine, and  found  two  fellows  waiting  for  me  there, 
two  men  in  the  automobile  business  I  knew  pretty 
well  —  one  from  New  York  and  one  from  town. 
And  I  took  them  out  to  lunch. 

"  What  do  you  say  if  we  go  over  to  Lembachs'," 
I  said,  "  and  get  some  of  Hansie's  Wurtz- 
burger?  " 

And  they  said  that  suited  them. 

"  Now  what  do  you  see,  boys?  "  I  said,  when  we 
got  there.  "  Look  her  over.  Guilford  clams, 
deviled  crabs  —  or  say  a  porterhouse.  They're  all 
good,  eh,  Hansie?"  said  I. 

"  Sure !  "  said  the  old  Dutchman,  nodding. 

"  I'll  take  a  plain  porterhouse,"  I  said,  "  when 
it  comes  to  me.  But  nix  on  the  beer,  Hans.  Get 
me  a  good  stiff  drink  of  rye  —  a  good  one.  You 
know!  I  guess  that'll  fix  me.  I'm  uglier  than  the 
devil's  grandmother.  I'm  all  out  of  joint,  still." 

"  You  ugly !  "  they  said,  jollying  me.  "  You've 
got  a  fine  right  to  be  ugly.  Just  knocking  down  a 
million,  or  two  —  and  a  whale  of  a  big  salary!  " 

"  Well,  I've  a  good  right  to  be  up  in  the  air 
some,"  I  said;  "you'd  think  so,  if  you  knew  what 
I'd  been  through  lately." 

I  still  felt  as  mean  as  a  man  could.     And  I  sent 
out  Hans  to  the  bar  for  another  whiskey. 

;<  This  steak  is  bum,"  I  said,  pushing  it  away. 
"  Can't  you  cook  anything  here,  any  more?  " 

"  I'm  sorry,  Mr.  Morgan;  can't  I  get  you  some- 
thing else,"  said  -old  Hans,  fussing  around. 

II  No.     Nothing,"  I  said.     "  You  can't  cook  here, 


A  Million  Dollars — Huh!  299 

that's  all.  You're  on  the  skids  —  the  whole  place. 
Get  me  a  cigar." 

And  I  put  down  my  other  whiskey. 

"  Gee,  you  have  got  a  grouch  on  today,"  said 
Chunky  Newman. 

"  Everything's  going  to  sixes  and  sevens  with  me 
over  this  thing,"  I  said.  "  Laugh.  Go  ahead, 
damn  you.  But  it's  so.  For  fifty  cents,"  I  said, 
"  I'd  chuck  the  whole  thing  over.  My  wife  is  crazy 
about  going.  We're  in  a  regular  cat  and  dog  row 
over  it.  And  I'm  sorry  myself  about  pulling  up  — 
breaking  up  everything,  and  leaving.  And  when 
you  come  down  to  it,  I  believe  I've  made  a  mis- 
take. I  believe  you'd  say  so,  if  you  were  in  my 
place." 

"  Sure.  Yes,"  said  Chunky,  laughing  till  his  col- 
lar choked  him.  "  I  wouldn't  take  their  million 
dollars.  I'd  slap  them  in  the  face  with  it.  Take 
it  away!  "  he  said,  laughing  and  choking  up  again. 
"Take  it  away!" 

"  That's  all  right,"  I  said.  "  But  I  believe  right 
now,  it  was  too  little  money.  I  believe  I  could  sit 
right  here,  and  make  more  for  myself  finally  than 
go  out  and  be  somebody  else's  hired  man  in  Detroit. 
I  mean  it. 

"  And  there's  another  idea,"  I  said  then,  "  you 
fellows  don't  get.  But  it  counts  —  just  the  same. 
You've  got  to  remember,  we  made  this  business  — 
right  here.  Pasc  Thomas  and  I.  It  was  our  baby, 
and  we  raised  it;  and,  by  Cripes,  it  don't  come  so 
easy  now  to  give  it  up,  boys,  when  you  come  right 
down  to  doing  it." 


300    The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

"  Listen,"  said  Chunky.  '  This  is  a  new  one. 
Bill's  getting  sentimental  in  his  old  age." 

"Maybe  I  am,"  I  said;  "I  don't  know.  But 
that's  the  way  I  feel. 

"  And  there's  still  another  thing,  too,  that's  been 
getting  me  lately  —  worse  and  worse;  and  that's 
that  Proctor  Billings.  He  gets  on  my  nerves. 
He's  as  cold  blooded  as  a  mermaid's  mother-in-law. 
I  don't  like  him,  I  never  did." 

And  I  told  them  a  little  about  the  way  he  was, 
about  the  old  employees  in  the  plant. 

"  I  never  did  like  that  kind  of  fellow,"  I  said. 
'  You  can't  really  trust  him.  And  I've  always  got 
my  suspicions  of  him,  too.  I've  always  got  a  sneak- 
ing idea  he's  getting  more  out  of  this  thing,  right 
now,  than  I  am.  I  couldn't  prove  it  probably,  but 
I  believe  he  is." 

"  It  wouldn't  be  him,"  said  Doc  Snyder,  "  if  he 
didn't." 

"  He  ain't  human,  I  know  that,"  I  said,  thinking 
of  that  morning  —  and  our  talk  over  the  busi- 
ness. 

"  I  suppose,"  I  said,  "  there's  nothing  to  it.  I 
suppose  it  will  go  through,  and  these  fellows  down 
your  way  —  those  great  big  bankers  have  got  to  get 
it,  and  put  k  together  with  that  other  thing,  that 
big  one." 

;'  They're  the  big  fellows,  all  right,"  said  Chunk. 
'  Top  notchers.  What  they  say  goes." 

'  They're  big  people  —  yes,"  said  I.  "  But  look 
what  a  cinch  they've  got.  They've  got  a  regular 
machine,  stretched  out  all  over  the  country,  even 


A  Million  Dollars — Huh!  301 

in  places  like  this  They  and  the  local  men  are 
watching  all  your  loans,  monkeying  with  you.  Get- 
ting the  inside  dope  on  everything  that  happens  in 
the  country." 

'  That's  right  too,"  said  Doc  Snyder. 

"  I'd  like  to  know  about  them,"  I  said  — "  how 
they  work.  I'd  like  to  get  a  look  into  that  game. 
I've  got  some  idea  now  how  fellows  like  Billings 
in  a  town  like  this  operate  —  get  up  and  declare 
themselves  in  on  everything  that  comes  along.  I've 
got  my  finger  in,  once  or  twice  myself.  But  these 
Wall  Street  bankers  —  these  ten-million-dollar 
boys,  from  that  lower  end  of  New  York,  get  me. 
I'd  like  to  get  a  look  into  that  big  game  once!  " 

"  A  great  big  game,"  said  Doc  Snyder. 

'  You  bet  it  is,"  I  said.  "  They  never  seem  to 
stop.  Sooner  or  later  they  seem  to  get  their  fingers 
into  every  good  thing  in  the  whole  country.  I'd 
like  to  learn  it.  I'd  like  to  take  a  crack  at  it.  And 
I  could  learn  it,  I  believe  —  and  you  could.  We're 
not  so  damned  much  duller  than  these  fellows  at  that, 
if  we  got  their  start.  I'd  like  to  get  down  there, 
and  try  it  some  time.  I  bet  I'd  put  some  salt  on 
their  tails  before  they  got  away  from  me  —  some  of 
those  fly  birds!  " 

"  I  don't  know  about  that,"  said  Doc. 

"  Well,  I  do,"  I  said,  "  if  you  don't.  I'm  not 
afraid  of  them.  I  don't  care  two  hoots  in  hell  for 
the  whole  outfit.  You  and  I  are  their  equals,  when 
you  come  down  to  it." 

"  I  bet  you  could  at  that,  Bill,"  said  Chunk,  pat- 
ting me  on  the  back.  "  You  could  take  care  of 


302     The  'Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

them.     But  you'd  better  stick  to  your  own  trade  at 
that." 

"  I  agree  with  you,  there,"  I  said.  "  That's  what 
I'm  talking  about  now.  That's  what  I  wish  I'd 
done  —  stayed  home  here. 

"And  there's  still  another  thing,"  I  said — "I'm 
thinking  of:  what  do  I  want  to  go  out  to  Detroit 
for,  where  I  don't  know  anybody  and  haven't  got  a 
friend,  even  to  the  fellows  that  will  work  for 
me?" 

"  You'll  make  plenty,"  he  said. 

"  I  don't  know,"  I  told  him.  "  But  yet,  if  I  just 
sold  out  and  stayed  here,  what  in  Judas'  name  would 
I  do  with  myself?  " 

"  Look  here,"  said  Chunk  to  me,  "  do  you  mean 
to  say  you'd  get  out  of  it,  if  you  could  —  now?  " 

"  I  sure  would,"  I  said,  getting  sorer  and  sorer 
the  more  we  talked  about  it.  "  If  I  could,  I'd  go 
right  over  there  now  to  that  icebox  in  the  bank,  and 
see  Proctor  Billings,  and  call  it  off.  If  I  ever  found 
a  loophole  —  if  I  ever  caught  him  doing  me  the 
slightest  way;  turning  something  extra  out  of  this 
for  himself  —  I  could  break  this  thing  wide  open 
in  a  minute  by  agreement.  And  I'd  do  it  too !  " 

The  more  I  talked,  the  more  I  felt  that  way. 
'  You  can't  help  him  besting  you  some,"  said  Doc 
Snyder. 

"Why  not  can't  I?" 

'  Well,  he's  got  to  make  some  extra  through  his 
bank." 

"  Placing  Universal  Motors  stock  locally,  you 
mean,"  said  I.  "  You  can't  help  that." 


A  Million  Dollars — Huh!  303 

'  Yes.     But  there's  something  more  than  that  in 
it,  for  him,"  he  said.     "  So  I  understand." 

"What's  that?" 

"  There's  an  extra  per  cent,  or  two  in  it  for  him, 
the  other  fellows  that  place  it  don't  get  —  for  his 
bank." 

"What's  that  for?  "said  I. 
'What  would  it  be  for?     Just  a  little  grease; 
a   little   salve   on   the   side   for  putting  your   deal 
over." 

"  Like  hell  it  is,"  I  said. 

"  Oh,  you  can't  beat  'em,"  said  Chunky,  laughing. 

"  I  got  that  straight,"  said  Doc  Snyder  to  me. 
"  From  a  man  who  ought  to  know." 

"  Is  that  right?"  I  said. 

"  It  sure  is,"  he  told  me. 

"  We'll  see  about  that,"  I  said.  And  I  got  my 
hat,  and  got  up  —  right  away. 

"Where  are  you  going,"  they  both  asked  — 
scared. 

"I  am  going  to  see  Billings,"  I  said,  "now I" 

"  Come  here,"  said  Doc.     "  Sit  down!  " 

"  Let  me  loose,"  I  said.  "  What  do  you  think 
I  care  for  him?  " 

"  It  wouldn't  be  that,  now !  "  said  Chunky,  getting 
my  other  arm.  "  You'd  be  up  against  something 
different  now  —  from  Billings!" 

"What  do  I  care  for  them?"  I  said.  "They 
can't  scare  me." 

"  Come  here,  Bill,"  said  Doc,  pulling  at  me. 
"  Sit  down.  You're  crazy  with  the  heat.  You 
can't  afford  to  get  out  against  those  people  I  Or 


304    The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

anybody  else!  They're  the  biggest  thing  in  this 
country." 

"  Why  not,  can't  I?  "  said  I,  pulling  away. 

"  Because  they're  too  big.  You  can't  afford  to 
get  them  out  against  you;  and  get  them  mad." 

"  You  watch  me,"  I  said. 

"  Bill,  you  wild  fool,"  said  Chunky.  "  Don't 
—  don't!  You  don't  know  what  you're  up  against. 
They'd  crack  you  like  a  flea  between  two  finger 
nails." 

"  I'll  show  you  whether  they  will  or  not,"  I  said. 
And  I  broke  away  from  them.  "  They  can't  scare 
me,"  I  said. 

"  Well,"  they  told  me,  "  if  you're  going  to  be 
such  a  lunatic,  don't  bring  us  into  it." 

"  Don't  fret,"  I  said.  "  I  won't.  I'll  take  care 
of  you  —  and  them  too." 

And  I  started  out. 

I  wasn't  drunk  a  particle.  I  was  as  straight  as 
a  string.  I  was  just  ugly  —  from  that  pain  from 
my  indigestion,  and  those  two  drinks  of  whiskey  in 
me  without  the  slightest  effect  on  it,  except  to  make 
it  worse.  I  was  just  plain  ugly.  I  walked  right 
over  to  Billings'  bank,  all  primed  —  ready  to  eat 
raw  rattlesnakes. 

"  If  he's  double-crossed  me,"  I  said  to  myself, 
"  here's  where  he  hears  something!  " 

And  I  went  out  back  into  that  still  room,  where 
the  little  pictures  of  sheep  were,  that  private  re- 
ception room  outside  his  door. 

"  I  want  to  see  Mr.  Billings,"  I  said  to  that  sec- 
retary of  his.  "  And  I  want  to  see  him  right  now !  " 


A  Million  Dollars — Huh!  305 

'  You  may  have  to  wait,"  he  said,  staring  at  me. 

"Wait,  hell!  "  I  said.  I  just  jerked  him  aside 
and  went  in. 

11  What  is  this?  "  asked  Proctor  Billings,  standing 
up  and  looking  at  me,  with  that  mean,  lean  face  of 
his  a  little  white. 

"  How-do-do,"  I  said.  And  sat  down.  I  wasn't 
drunk  a  particle.  I  may  have  been  just  a  little 
touched,  but  nothing  more  than  that.  I  know  it.  I 
was  just  pure  ugly. 

"  I  want  to  ask  you  something,"  I  said,  sticking 
my  finger  out  at  him. 

"  Well?  "  he  said,  still  standing  up. 

"  Are  you  putting  anything  over  on  the  side  on 
me,"  I  said,  "in  this  deal  of  ours?" 

:' What  do  you  mean?"  he  said,  stiffening  up. 
"  I  refuse  to  answer  such  a  question." 

'  You  remember  that  part  in  that  agreement  of 
ours;  that  one,  if  we  sold  out,  we  sold  together,  split 
equally  —  share  and  share  alike !  And  if  there  was 
anything  wrong,  by  either  of  us,  it  bust  the  option, 
and  we  went  back  to  where  we  were." 

"  I  do." 

"That  holds,  don't  it?" 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  sitting  down  finally,  watching 
me. 

"  Well,  I  just  heard  today  you  were  getting  an 
extra  rake-off  through  your  bank." 

"  I  don't  care  for  your  way  of  expressing  it 
much,"  said  Billings. 

"  All  right,"  I  said.  "  We'll  express  it  any  way 
you  want  to.  But  \  want  to  know.  Do  you,  or 


306     The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

don't  you,  get  something  extra  for  your  bank  out 
of  this?" 

"  I'm  placing  some  of  the  Universal  Motors' 
securities  here,  as  you  know  —  when  they're 
issued,"  he  said,  giving  me  those  blank  steel  eyes 
again. 

"  I  know  that,"  I  said.  "  Now  we're  getting  at 
it.  But  we  ain't  quite  there.  Did  you,"  I  said, 
"  or  didn't  you,  get  an  extra  percentage  that  other 
banks  selling  that  stock  didn't  get,  because  you  made 
that  agreement,  when  you  sold  out  your  part  of  our 
stock  to  them?  " 

"  If  I  did  —  or  the  bank  —  what  then ?  "  he  said, 
not  moving  his  steel  eyeballs  or  his  still  face  a 
fraction  of  an  inch. 

"  I'll  tell  you  what  then,"  I  said.  His  frozen 
face  didn't  make  any  impression  on  me.  "  If  you 
did,  you've  broken  your  agreement  with  me,  and 
this  whole  thing's  off. 

"  I  built  up  this  thing  —  another  man  and  I.  It's 
my  business.  It's  me  —  just  as  if  it  were  part  of 
me  —  built  into  me.  I  worked  and  sweat  and  bled 
for  it,  and  built  it  up.  And  when  I  get  it  along 
where  you  want  it,  you  come  and  declare  yourself 
in,  and  now  you'll  take  it  and  sell  it  and  double-cross 
me  on  the  proceeds.  You  may  think  you  will;  but 
you  won't!  You've  got  the  wrong  pig  by  the  tail 
this  time.  You  don't  know  me !  "  I  said,  and 
pounded  on  the  chair. 

"  Are  you  through,"  he  said,  looking  at  me  — 
colder  and  whiter  than  ever.  "  If  you  are,  I'll  tell 
you  something.  Whatever  this  bank  gets  or  doesn't 


A  Million  Dollars — Huh!  307 

get,  is  my  concern,  my  friend,  and  that  of  the  other 
stockholders  in  it  —  not  yours." 

"  It  is,  eh?  "  I  said.  "  Well,  I'll  show  you  dif- 
ferent. I'll  show  you  I'm  not  the  kind  that'll  lay 
down  and  let  you  walk  over  them.  I'm  a  different 
kind  of  a  boy." 

"  Don't  start  on  your  personal  history  again,"  he 
said.  "  It  doesn't  interest  me." 

"It  don't,  eh?"  I  said.  "Well,  I'll  tell  you 
something  that  will  interest  you.  This  agreement 
of  ours  to  sell  our  stock  is  off  —  from  now  on.  Be- 
cause you've  broken  it.  I've  been  kind  of  sick  of 
this  for  some  time.  I  knew  I  wasn't  getting  what 
I  should,  but  I  stuck  because  I  said  I  would.  But 
now  this  rake-off  of  yours  let's  me  out.  It  gives 
me  just  the  loophole  I  was  looking  for.  Now  you've 
broken  it,  you  can  take  the  consequences.  I'm 
through.  This  business  will  stay  just  as  it  was  un- 
der our  old  three-year  agreement." 

"  What  about  your  written  option  through  me  to 
these  New  York  people?"  he  asked  me,  cool  as 
ever. 

"  It's  off,"  I  said,  looking  him  in  the  eye. 

"  With  a  million  dollar  offer,"  he  asked,  "  for  your 
stock?  And  your  salary?  " 

"  All  off,"  I  said,  "  I'm  through." 

"Is  it?"  said  Billings.  "Are  you  sure?"  he 
said,  getting  up  on  his  feet.  "  If  I  were  you  I'd 
give  it  a  little  more  thought.  I'd  go  off  and  let  my 
head  clear." 

"  If  I  were  you,"  I  came  back,  mocking  him  — 
when  he  said  that  to  me,  "  if  I  were  you,  I'd  give 


308    The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

my  face  a  vacation.  Gripes,"  I  said,  looking  at 
him,  "  I  should  think,  once  in  a  while,  once  a  year 
anyway  —  you'd  take  a  vacation  off  somewhere,  and 
have  one  good  natural  expression  on  your  face.  Go 
off  and  enjoy  yourself  —  let  loose  one  smile.  Be  a 
devil  of  a  fellow,  and  have  one  good  honest  smile. 
And  give  that  damned,  still,  polite  treacherous  face 
of  yours  a  rest !  " 

"  It  may  be,"  he  said,  going  on  'as  if  he  hadn't 
heard  me,  "  it  maybe  you're  making  a  mistake.  It 
may  be  some  time  before  you'll  have  a  million  dol- 
lars offered  to  you  again  for  that  stock  of  yours  — 
when  you  let  this  go !  " 

His  face  was  white  —  and  his  eyes  were  harder 
than  ever.  I  got  up  myself  —  red-hot  now,  uglier 
than  ever  at  him  —  waiting  there,  beside  his  vase 
of  flowers  —  hinting  to  me  that  I  was  drunk,  and 
that  I'd  better  get  out. 

"We'll  see  about  that,"  I  said.  "A  million 
dollars !  "  I  said.  "  That  ain't  the  only  million  dol- 
lars in  the  world." 

"  Do  I  understand  you  don't  want  it?  "  he  said, 
colder  and  stiller  all  the  time." 

"That's  what  you  do!"  said  I.  "Exactly. 
Yes.  That's  what  I  do  mean.  You  can  take  your 
million  and  poke  it  in  your  eye.  My  property  is 
worth  more  than  that  to  me  —  right  now.  And 
you've  broken  your  option  to  take  it." 

He  was  getting  whiter  and  whiter  all  the  time,  I 
noticed,  and  finally  he  broke  loose,  cutting  out  every 
word  with  his  lips,  like  a  die. 

'  You've  swelled  up  too  much,  my  friend,"  he 


A  Million  Dollars — Huh!  309 

said  to  me.  '  You've  gone  too  far,  too  fast,  the 
last  few  years.  You  think  you  can  do  about  what 
you  please,  but  you're  mistaken.  You  can't  play 
fast  and  loose  with  signed  agreements.  You've 
reached  your  limit.  You've  run  into  something  you 
don't  understand. 

"  And  now,"  he  said,  standing  there,  looking 
supercilious  at  me,  "  if  I  were  you,  I'd  go  straight 
home,  and  take  a  cold  plunge." 

"  If  I  were  you,"  I  said,  "  I'd  go  sit  down."  And 
I  pushed  him  in  his  chest  with  my  open  hand,  over 
on  that  vase  of  flowers  on  the  desk. 

"  You  quarrelsome  barnyard  brute,"  he  said, 
straightening  up,  and  pointing  to  the  door.  '  You'll 
pay  for  this.  Now  get  out!  Go!" 

And  he  took  out  his  handkerchief  to  wipe  the 
water  off  him  from  the  vase.  I  had  to  laugh. 
"  Pay  for  it!  "  said  I.  "  Go.  For  you !  " 

And  stepped  up  to  him  again. 

"  I  caught  you  in  the  act  finally,  my  friend,"  I  said. 
"  I've  got  you  with  your  hands  in  my  pockets.  It's 
no  go.  You  can't  do  it.  You  can't  sell  me  out,  ac- 
cording to  our  agreement  —  or  yourself  either  — 
now. 

"  Just  for  greens,"  I  said,  drawing  off  at  him. 
"  I'd  like  to  hand  you  one  once.  I've  owed  it  to 
you  for  some  time." 

And  he  crowded  back  on  his  desk  again. 

"  But  I  won't,"  I  said.  "  Don't  be  afraid.  I 
won't  hurt  you,  like  I  would  a  man.  I  wouldn't 
dare  to,  for  fear  you'd  splash.  You  ain't  a  man," 
I  said.  "  You're  nothing  but  a  kind  of  still  soft 


310     The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

bug,  that  grows  where  they  keep  money  —  a  fat 
white  worm  that  grows  on  greenbacks. 

"  You !  "  I  said,  keeping  him  backed  back.  "  You 
soft-handed,  white-fingered,  hard-faced  crook,"  I 
said.  "  You  and  your  options,  and  your  sleight-of- 
hand  performances,  and  your  ten-million-dollar  boys 
from  New  York,  and  what  they'll  do  to  me !  Bring 
them  on,"  I  said.  "I'm  not  afraid  of  you  —  the 
whole  bunch  of  you.  Bring  them  on,"  I  said.  "  I'll 
fight.  I'll  fight  the  whole  outfit." 

And  I  went  out  and  left  him  sitting  on  his  desk 
—  on  an  orchid. 

"  A  million  dollars,  huh!  "  I  said,  when  I  got  in 
the  street.  "  I'd  rather  have  my  little  old  business 
any  day!  " 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

MY   LAWYER 

I  got  the  best  lawyer  I  could.  I  went  right  over 
from  the  bank,  and  told  him  my  case,  and  told  him 
I  wanted  to  fight  it.  He  whistled  a  second  or  two. 
'  They're  big  people!  "  he  said. 

"  I  wouldn't  be  afraid  of  them,"  I  told  him,  "  if 
they  were  twice  as  big." 

"  I  don't  doubt  that,"  he  said. 

"  Have  I  got  a  case?  "  I  asked  him. 

"  I'm  not  going  to  say  that,"  he  said,  looking  at 
me,  the  way  lawyers  have  —  bluffing,  when  they  don't 
really  know.  "  That  I'll  let  you  know  later.  But  I 
expect  from  what  you  say,  you  might  make  them 
some  trouble,  especially  just  now  at  this  stage  of  the 
game,  when  they  want  to  get  this  into  their  new  con- 
cern right  away." 

"  That  ain't  enough,"  I  said.  "  I  believe  I've 
got  a  case  that'll  beat  'em!  " 

"  You  don't  want  to  compromise,"  he  said,  look- 
ing at  me,  "  for  a  little  more  money?  "  He  kind 
of  grinned  —  hinting  that  I  was  holding  them  up  for 
more. 

"  No,"  I  told  him.  "  That  ain't  it,  now.  What 
I  want  is  to  keep  where  I  am  now.  And  buy  out 
Billings  myself,  when  we  get  this  thing  broken  —  if 
he  can  be  gotten  to  sell  out  to  me." 


312     The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

"  Well,  we'll  see,"  said  my  lawyer. 

"  I  want  you  to  jam  it,"  I  said. 

"  I  understand,"  he  said  to  me. 

And  I  went  over  to  tell  Polly  about  it. 

"I  —  I  was  afraid  you'd  do  something  like  that," 
she  said,  her  face  whiter  and  her  voice  sharper  than 
it  had  been  before. 

"  You    ought   to    be    satisfied,"    I    said    to    her. 
'  You've  got  your  own  way.     You  don't  have  to  go 
to  Detroit." 

"  I'd  rather  go  to  Detroit  than  this." 

"Good  God,"  I  said,  "why?  Is  there  anything 
you  women  can  be  reasonable  on?  First,  you  say 
you  won't  go  to  Detroit,  and  now  you  say  you  don't 
want  to  stay  here.  What  do  you  want,  do  you 
know?" 

'  You  know  what  I  want,"  she  said.  "  I  want 
you  to  stop.  Not  get  into  more  trouble  and  rows 
and  hard  work!  I  want  you  to  stop,  before  you  kill 
yourself." 

"  Kill  myself,"  I  said,  "  that's  likely.  A  man  as 
strong  as  I  am !  " 

"  Or  somebody  else.  The  way  you  did  this  morn- 
ing! That  shows  you,"  she  said,  "whether  you're 
all  right;  whether  you're  fit  to  go  on  with  your  work. 
The  way  you're  going  now.  D-do  you  think  you'd 
have  done  that  —  five  years  ago  .  .  .  ?  " 

"  Oh,  shut  up,"  I  said,  getting  tired  of  hearing 
her.  '  When  it  comes  to  changes,  think  of  your- 
self. Your  nose  and  your  tongue  get  sharper  every 
day." 

"  Or  say  that  to  me !  "  she  said,  staring  in  my  eyes, 


My  Lawyer  313 

and  then  turning  and  going  upstairs  —  and  locking 
herself  in  her  room. 

"  I  tell  you  what  I'll  do,"  I  said,  going  upstairs 
afterwards.  For  I  knew  I'd  been  acting  ugly  as  sin 
about  the  thing.  "  I  tell  you  what  I'll  do  with 
you  — "  when  she  let  me  into  her  room  upstairs 
finally.  "  I'll  go  and  see  a  doctor  —  if  that'll  do 
you  any  good." 

"  If  you  did,"  she  said,  coming  around  so  that 
she  looked  at  me  a  little,  "  you  probably  wouldn't 
believe  what  he  told  you,  or  do  anything  about  it." 

'  That  depends  what  he  told  me,"  I  said,  jollying 
her  along,  trying  to  make  her  feel  better.  "  I 
wouldn't  have  him  send  me  abroad  for  a  year,  travel- 
ing—  the  way  he  did  Pasc." 

The  doctor  had  started  him  off  that  week  —  right 
after  the  accident.  Or  the  doctor  and  Zetta  had 
together. 

"  He  says  that  was  a  good  deal  of  a  shock  to  him," 
said  Zetta  to  me  — "  with  his  nerves  as  they  were 
anyway.  And  he  thinks  it  may  tend  to  take  his 
mind  off  his  carburetor  —  or  whatever  he's  got  it 
on  now.  The  doctor  says  that  only  for  this  think- 
ing night  and  day,  about  these  ideas  of  his,  he'd  be 
all  right.  And  maybe  over  there,  after  awhile,  he 
could  drop  them  and  rest. 

"  What'll  happen,"  she  said,  with  a  kind  of  flash 
of  her  old  way,  "  we'll  go  and  sit  on  the  Alps  and 
think  about  it  there.  It's  just  as  well,  too.  He's 
never  planned  a  carburetor  on  the  Alps.  It  would 
be  a  new  experience  to  him." 

And  she  laughed. 


314     The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

"  And  for  me  too,"  she  said.  "  But  I  want  him 
to  go,"  she  said,  looking  up  with  those  straight  eyes 
of  hers.  "  I  want  to  do  everything  I  can  to  get  him 
on  his  feet.  He  —  he  don't  get  any  better,"  she 
said;  and  got  up  all  of  a  sudden  and  went  away. 

"She  acted  scared  about  him  —  to  me,"  I  said. 

"  She  is,"  said  Polly. 

"  She's  changed,  herself,  quite  a  lot,  since  that 
happened,"  said  I. 

"  Yes,"  she  told  me.  "  A  good  deal  more  sub- 
dued." 

"  I  like  her  better,"  I  said.  "  And  I  like  to  see 
her  back  with  Pasc  more  again  —  looking  after 
him." 

"  She's  always  thought  her  eyes  of  him,"  said 
Polly. 

"  She  didn't  always  act  that  way,"  said  I. 

"  There's  a  limit,"  she  answered  me,  "  even  for 
a  woman." 

"  Do  I  take  that  twice?  "  I  asked  her. 

"Twice?" 

"  Once  for  him,  and  once  for  me." 

"  If  you  want  to,"  she  said. 

And  we  went  over  that  next  week,  and  saw  them 
start,  and  shut  up  that  brand  new  house  of  theirs. 

"  I  God,"  I  said,  when  they  were  gone,  "  I'd  cer- 
tainly like  that,  traveling  around  the  face  of  the  earth 
to  keep  alive  —  and  keep  from  thinking  of  your 
business." 

'  You  may  know  something  about  it  sometime," 
said  Polly.  And  she  asked  me  then,  for  the  dozenth 
time,  if  I'd  seen  that  doctor  yet. 


My  Lawyer  315 

I  was  a  little  surprised  —  I  must  say  —  when  I 
did  see  him.  I  knew  I  was  feeling  off  color  some, 
my  stomach  and  my  sleep,  but  it  never  struck  me 
there  was  anything  very  dangerous  about  it. 

'  The  best  of  them  come  to  it,"  he  said,  "  sooner 
or  later,  the  way  we  Americans  live.  You've  got  to 
quit,  that's  all  —  or  you'll  quit  some  day,  all  of  a 
sudden ! " 

"What  did  he  say  to  you?"  said  Polly,  looking 
in  my  face  the  minute  I  came  into  the  house. 

"  Oh,  nothing  much,"  I  said,  feeling  kind  of  blue 
over  it.  "  Only  my  nerves  and  digestion." 

"  Didn't  he  say  it  was  worse  for  a  big,  full-blooded 
man  like  you?  "  she  asked  me. 

"  How  did  you  strike  on  to  that?  "  said  I. 

"Who  wouldn't,"  said  Polly,  "that  had  any 
sense?  Didn't  he  say  you'd  have  to  quit  —  the  kind 
of  thing  you're  doing  now?  " 

"  Well,  he  told  me  I  wanted  to  take  care  of  my- 
self," I  said.  I  wasn't  going  to  tell  her  everything 
he  said. 

"  And  get  out  of  too  much  extra  work  and  ex- 
citement? " 

"  Well,  something  like  that,"  I  said. 

But  I  lied  to  her  some.  I  wouldn't  tell  her  it 
was  anything  very  much,  naturally,  especially  when 
I  was  tied  up  with  that  lawsuit,  and  had  to  see  it 
through. 

I  was  having  quite  a  little  discussion  with  my 
lawyer  over  it.  "  It's  all  right,  I  guess,"  he  said. 
"  I  can  make  a  fight,  of  course  —  hold  it  up,  as  I 
told  you." 


316     The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

"  We  certainly  can  keep  them  from  getting  my 
stock,  anyhow." 

"  Well,  yes,"  he  said.  "  I  don't  think  the  diffi- 
culty will  come  there." 

"  And  we  can  stop  him  from  giving  final  title  to 
his — under  our  agreement,"  I  said.  "  I  don't  see 
why  not." 

"  I  don't  know!  "  he  told  me.  "  You've  got  to 
prove  a  good  deal." 

"  I  don't  see  it,"  said  I. 

"  As  far  as  delivering  your  stock  goes,  there  may 
not  be  any  trouble.  They  may  not  even  try  to 
press  you  there  at  all." 

"Why  not?" 

'  They'll  have  the  majority  of  the  company  with- 
out it.  If  their  theory  of  the  case  holds." 

"  It  won't,"  I  said,  "  I  don't  believe  it." 

"  Well,"  he  told  me.  "  You've  got  to  face  it,  for 
the  court  may  uphold  them.  It's  quite  likely  to. 
You  can  never  tell.  They've  got  a  good  case,  and 
they  seem  pretty  confident  of  it.  And  if  they 
win—" 

"  I'm  a  minority  stockholder  —  I  understand 
that!" 

"  Exactly.  And  more  than  that,"  he  said,  "  I've 
got  a  feeling  —  I've  had  it  for  some  time  — 
they  might  be  out  to  punish  you  —  if  they  once 
get  you  —  for  what  they  consider  a  breach  of 
faith." 

"  What  could  they  do  to  me?  " 

11  Nothing.     Sit  still.     Put  you  under  pressure, 


My  Lawyer  317 

maybe.     Absent  treatment!"  he  said  and  laughed. 
"  You  mean  you'd  settle?  " 
"  They're  big  people,"  he  told  me. 
"Ah-hah,"  I  said.     "You  fight!" 


CHAPTER  XXV 

A   TRAVELER    RETURNS 

We  would  have,  too,  if  it  hadn't  been  for  that 
cable  from  Pasc  Thomas.  I  got  it  that  very  next 
day  —  from  Liverpool. 

"  Hold  up,"  it  said,  "  everything  on  suit.  Back 
first  boat.  Answer." 

"  What's  this?  "  I  said  to  myself  when  I  first  got 
it.  "Pasc  Thomas'  coming  into  this  thing!  This 
is  something  strange  and  new." 

I  couldn't  make  any  sense  out  of  it.  He  hadn't 
been  in  this  row  at  all,  in  any  way. 

But  I  answered  him  —  and  said  I'd  wait.  I 
would,  naturally,  if  Pasc  asked  me  to.  I'd  have 
stood  on  my  head  till  he  came.  But  I  couldn't 
guess  what  he  had  on  his  mind. 

He  looked  pretty  bad,  I  thought,  when  I  met 
them  and  brought  them  up  to  our  house.  It  bumped 
me  a  little  seeing  him.  The  trip  had  been  hard 
on  him,  Zetta  said.  He  didn't  take  to  the  ocean 
very  well.  He  had  that  kind  of  settled,  solemn 
look,  a  pretty  sick  man  gets,  now,  most  of  the  time. 

"  I  guess  you'll  think  I'm  crazy,  coming  back 
here,"  he  said,  when  we  went  off  and  sat  down  in 
my  library  together.  And  when  he  said  it,  he  peeled 
off  another  piece  of  his  old  slippery  elm,  and 
put  the  rest  back  in  his  pants  pocket.  And  I 
laughed. 


A   Traveler  Returns  319 

44  Well,  that  looks  natural,"  I  said. 

And  then  he  grinned,  and  went  on  and  told  me 
what  brought  him  back;  about  this  young  fellow  he 
met  on  the  boat,  from  that  big  New  York  banking 
house  of  ours. 

"One  of  the  firm?"  I  asked  him. 

'  Yes,  the  one  that  had  charge  of  this  Universal 
Motors  deal.  He  wasn't  more  than  forty-two  or 
three,"  he  said.  "  He  didn't  look  more  than  thirty- 
five. 

"  He'd  heard  about  me,"  said  Pasc,  "  it  seems, 
and  he  wanted  to  talk  to  me  —  about  that  new  Uni- 
versal Company,  and  about  the  principles  of  gas 
engines  in  general,  and  what  improvements  to  ex- 
pect. He  was  a  smart  one  —  smarter  than  a  steel 
trap." 

"  I  suppose  so,"  I  said.     "  They  can  get  them." 

"  And  from  that,"  said  Pasc,  "  I  got  him  to  talk 
about  the  company  —  about  you  and  the  Hoodlum 
Company." 

"What'dhesay?" 

"  He  said  there  was  nothing  to  say,  except  they 
were  going  to  smash  you." 

"  Smash  nothing!  "  said  I,  and  I  laughed  at  him. 
"  Pasc,"  I  said,  "  you're  easy.  You  always  were. 
What  do  you  know  about  business  fights?  " 

"  Not  much,  maybe,"  he  said,  "  I  know.  But  I 
could  see  this.  He  showed  it  to  me  —  perfectly 
plain.  They've  got  you,  Bill.  This  thing  is  going 
against  you." 

"Going  against  me?  How  do  you  know  —  or 
they?" 


320     The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

"  They've  got  their  ways,"  he  said.  '  They 
know." 

"  Well,  I  suppose  they  have.  I'll  admit  that 
much;  everybody  says  so  anyhow,"  said  I,  thinking 
for  a  minute  how  big  these  fellows  were,  and  the 
wires  they  had  out  everywhere.  "  They  certainly 
can  buy  the  very  best  legal  advice  in  the  coun- 
try." 

"  It's  more  than  that,"  said  Pasc. 

"More?" 

"  The  courts  will  go  against  you,"  said  Pasc. 

"  How  do  they  know  that?  " 

"  Oh,  they  know!  "  said  Pasc. 

"  Maybe  they  do,  and  maybe  they  don't,"  said  I. 

"  And  anyhow,"  he  went  on,  "  they've  got  to  — 
the  courts  —  decide  against  you,  as  far  as  I  can  see; 
from  what  he  said  —  just  from  the  law  of  it.  What 
did  your  lawyer  tell  you  —  anything  different?  Did 
he  want  to  go  on  ?  Did  he  say  you  had  a  first-class 
case?" 

"  Never  mind  what  he  said  now,"  I  answered  him, 
getting  a  little  huffy.  "  You  tell  me  what  they're 
going  to  do." 

"  He  didn't  encourage  you  —  your  lawyer  —  I 
can  see  that  now !  "  said  Pasc,  looking  at  me  for  a 
minute  or  so  before  he  started  on  talking.  "  And 
what  they're  going  to  do  is  just  do  nothing.  Just 
tie  you  up  indefinitely  legally.  All  they  got  to  do  is 
tie  you  up,  and  sit  still.  He  laughed  about  you, 
Bill,"  he  said,  "  to  tell  the  truth.  He  said  at  first 
you  were  just  a  hot-headed  fool  that  was  trying  to 
hold  them  up  —  from  out  here  in  the  country." 


A  Traveler  Returns  321 

"  Hold  them  upl  "  I  said,  and  cursed  them  out. 

"  I  told  him  better  than  that,"  said  Pasc.  "  But 
it  took  me  some  time  to  convince  him." 

"  What  did  he  claim  he'd  do  to  me  —  did  he 
say?" 

"  Nothing,"  he  said.  "  They  were  through  with 
you.  He  laughed  about  your  claim  you  could  hold 
back  Billings  from  selling  his  stock  to  them  on  ac- 
count of  what  his  bank  did.  He  said  they  had  the 
control  of  the  company  without  you  —  that  was  all 
—  with  Billings,  and  the  rest.  The  worst  that  could 
happen  to  them,  they  would  have  a  majority  of  the 
stock  over  you." 

"  I  could  give  them  quite  a  fight,"  I  said,  "  even 
as  a  minority  stockholder." 

u  You  wouldn't  be  that,  even,  as  he  puts  it." 

"Why  not?" 

"Because  —  however  it  comes  out  finally  — 
they're  going  to  fight  you  everywhere,  through  all 
the  courts,  up  and  down  hill,  for  that  stock  of  yours. 
They're  going  to  fight  you  to  a  finish." 

"  All  right,"  said,  "  let  them." 

But  it  made  quite  a  dent  in  me,  just  the  same,  think- 
ing of  what  I  might  be  up  against. 

"  And  in  the  meanwhile,  they'll  have  that  stock  of 
yours  tied  up  solid  in  the  court,  so  you  can't  con- 
trol it." 

"  We'll  see  about  that,  too,"  I  said. 

And  we  stopped  awhile. 

"They're  big  people,"  said  Pasc,  finally. 

"  Yes,  I  know  that,"  said  I.  "  But  this  is  a  free 
country,  too." 


322     The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

"  That's  true  enough,"  he  told  me.  "  But  there's 
a  great  difference  in  the  power  people  have  here  — 
we  all  know  that." 

"  I  suppose  we  do,"  said  I,  and  we  sat  thinking 
again. 

"And  there's  another  thing,"  said  Pasc;  "in  a 
way  there's  more  than  just  your  stock  in  this  thing 
to  Magnus  and  Company." 

"What?" 

"  I  think  they  mean  to  punish  you  —  in  a  way  — 
for  not  keeping  your  agreement.  Tie  you  up  — 
cut  off  your  income  from  the  stock;  damage  you 
every  way  they  can.  Punish  you.  He  didn't  say 
so  exactly.  He  said  they  were  going  after  you  — 
for  the  principle  of  the  thing — as  an  object  les- 
son." 

"They'll  go  after  me  all  right;  they'll  punish 
me  —  if  Billings  can  make  them." 

"They've  got  you  bad,"  said  Pasc.  "They'll 
have  a  kind  of  foul  hold  on  you.  Your  salary  will 
be  gone,  your  principal  property  tied  up  in  the  courts, 
and  you'll  be  fighting  about  the  biggest  power  in 
the  country.  When  I  saw  just  what  was  coming," 
said  Pasc,  "  it  scared  me." 

And  I  didn't  say  anything.  I  looked  down,  feel- 
ing ugly. 

"  So  I  asked  him,"  he  went  on,  finally,  "  to  hold 
off,  and  I'd  see  you.  I  got  him  to  hold  off  and 
give  me  a  chance  to  see  you,  and  offer  you  that 
million  dollars  again  for  the  last  time!  " 

'  No  job  in  Detroit,  I  suppose,  now." 

"No,  they  withdraw  that." 


A  Traveler  Returns  323 

'  They  do,  huh?  "  said  I,  and  stopped. 

"  What  difference  does  that  make,"  said  Pasc. 
"  You  wouldn't  take  it  anyhow." 

"  No,  I  don't  suppose  I  would,"  said  I,  and  looked 
up  at  him. 

'  You  mean  to  say,"  I  said,  "  you  turned  around 
from  where  the  doctor  sent  you,  and  came  back 
here,  feeling  as  weak  as  you  did  —  for  this?  " 

"  I'd  have  got  out  of  my  grave,"  he  said,  "  and 
come.  If  I  couldn't  come  any  other  way." 

I  didn't  say  anything  back,  but  it  made  more  of 
an  impression  on  me,  just  that  —  his  coming  back 
and  the  way  he  looked  —  than  anything  that  had 
been  said  or  done  to  me  before. 

"  You  oughtn't  to  have  done  it,"  I  said. 

"  Oh,  that's  nothing." 

"  Gripes,"  I  said  to  myself,  watching  him  —  how 
sick  and  tired  he  looked;  "  that  fellow  must  have  con- 
vinced you,  all  right!  " 

It  made  me  stop  and  hesitate  in  the  thing  for  the 
first  time. 

But  I  wouldn't  say  so  to  him. 

"  Well,  Pasc,"  I  told  him  after  awhile,  "  I'm  much 
obliged,  but  I'm  sorry  you  did  it." 

And  he  didn't  say  anything. 

41  Why  didn't  you  cable?  "  I  said. 

"  Because  that  wouldn't  accomplish  what  I  was 
after." 

"  It  won't  make  any  difference,  I'm  afraid,"  I 
said,  "  in  the  outcome." 

"  Yes,  it  will,  too,"  said  Pasc.  "  I'm  going  to 
get  what  I  came  for." 


324     The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

"  You  ought  to  know  me  better  than  that,"  I  told 
him. 

"  I  know  you,"  he  said. 

'  You  ought  to  know  that  when  I  say  I'll  fight, 
I'll  fight." 

"  I  do.  I  know  you,"  he  went  on.  "  And  I 
know  you're  no  fool,  too.  I  knew  that  when  I 
started  back.  I  knew  you  were  bound  to  fight  — 
if  you  once  got  started,  till  somebody  showed  you. 
And  I  knew  if  any  one  could  talk  sense  to  you,  I 
could.  So  I  came." 

'  You  took  a  good  deal  on  yourself,"  I  started 
to  say.  And  then  I  didn't.  The  look  on  his  face 
prevented  me. 

"  Now  you're  going  to  sign  with  these  folks,"  he 
said,  "  while  you  can,  and  get  out.  Take  your 
money  and  stop  —  the  way  you  ought  to." 

;'  Who  says  so,"  said  I. 

"  I  do,"  he  said,  very  quiet.  "  I  do.  Because 
I'm  right,  and  what's  more,"  he  said,  watching  me, 
"  you  know  it,  too.  Don't  try  to  say  you  don't. 
Because  you  do.  You  know  it's  time  for  you  to 
quit. 

"  Everybody's  told  you.  Your  wife  has  told  you. 
Your  doctor  has  told  you.  Your  lawyer's  told  you. 
And  now  I  come  back  from  across  the  pond,"  he  said, 
and  gave  me  this  long,  serious  look,  "  and  I  tell  you 
the  same  thing.  It's  time  for  you  to  quit  —  aside 
from  this  entirely.  Before  you  make  my  mistake," 
he  said.  "  Before  you  stay  too  late.  I've  got  a 
right  to  warn  you,"  he  said,  fixing  those  old  ghostly 
eyes  of  his  on  me  — "  more  ways  than  one!  " 


A  Traveler  Returns  325 

And  I  stopped  then.  I  didn't  answer  then.  I 
saw  something  in  those  old  blue  eyes  of  his  that 
scared  me,  for  the  minute.  I  saw  what  he  really 
thought  —  about  himself ! 

But  he  only  waited  for  a  few  seconds,  looking  at  me. 

'  You  ain't  strong  enough  to  fight  those  fellows," 
he  said.  "  Not  now.  You're  a  sick  man,  really." 

"  Oh,  rats,"  I  told  him. 

"  But  if  you  were  four  times  as  strong,  it  wouldn't 
do  you  any  good.  They  got  you  wrong,  in  the  first 
place,  just  because  you  were  such  a  fighter,  naturally. 
They've  got  your  name  on  a  paper,  and  now  you're 
trying  to  withdraw  it.  But  the  main  thing  is,  that 
now  they've  got  you!  All  they've  got  to  do  is  sit 
still,  and  tie  you  up,  and  let  you  bang  yourself  to 
pieces.  You  can't  hurt  them.  You  can  tear  and 
rear,  but  that's  all  you  can  do.  You  can  bite  and 
snarl.  But  it's  no  use.  No  more  use  —  you'll  make 
no  more  impression  on  these  people,  Bill  —  than  "a 
bulldog  biting  a  mountain  1  " 

I  grinned  a  little  then,  finally,  watching  him,  sit- 
ting there,  saying  that  with  a  serious  face.  I 
grinned,  and  he  saw  me. 

"  I  tell  you  what  I  want  you  to  do,  Bill,"  he  said 
to  me  then.  He  knew  in  a  minute,  of  course,  what 
it  meant  to  get  me  grinning. 

"What?"  I  said,  still  smiling.  I  couldn't  help 
myself. 

"  I  want  you  to  go  to  your  lawyer  with  me,  to- 
morrow morning,  and  see  if  he  don't  say  so  —  just 
exactly  what  I  tell  you.  Will  you  do  it?"  said 
Pasc." 


326     The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

"  Well,  yes,"  I  said  after  awhile.  "  I  guess  maybe 
I  will." 

"  And  will  you  do  what  he  tells  you  to?  " 

"  Yes,"  I  said,  thinking.     "  Yes,  I'll  do  that  too." 

And  I  knew  when  I  said  it  what  my  lawyer  would 
tell  me.  He'd  told  it  to  me  already,  as  far  as  I 
would  listen  to  it.  That  meant  practically  that  I 
was  through.  But  I  wasn't  going  to  show  it  to 
Pasc  then. 

"  But  there's  nobody  else  in  the  world  would  have 
got  that  much  out  of  me,"  I  said,  "  but  you !  " 

"  That's  what  I  came  back  again  for,"  said  Pasc. 

"  Gripes,"  I  said  to  myself,  with  a  kind  of  a  start, 
watching  his  lean  face  and  thin  temples.  "  All  I 
hope  is  you  didn't  kill  yourself  doing  it  I  " 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

MEMORIES 

"  How  do  you  like  my  library  now?  "  I  said  to 
Pasc,  finally,  after  we'd  sat  there  thinking.  I  had 
got  me  two  or  three  new  things  since  he'd  been  gone. 
He  sat  there  in  front  of  the  fireplace,  and  looked 
around. 

"  Fine,"  he  said. 

I  had  it  fixed  up  pretty  near  to  suit  me  now.  I'd 
just  got  this  big  new  oil  painting  down  in  New  York 
—  of  some  girls  in  swimming,  a  corker !  And  that 
big  elk's  head  over  the  fireplace,  with  those  little 
electric  lights  in  its  eyes  —  that  novelty  I  put  in  to 
surprise  callers  with,  and  make  some  amusement. 

"  It's  good!"  said  Pasc. 

"  I  think  so  myself,"  said  I. 

We  sat  around  then,  after  that,  quite  a  little  while, 
visiting. 

"  You're  a  funny  one,  Bill,"  said  old  Pasc,  going 
back  to  that  deal  again.  "  You  have  to  fight  just 
so  much  anyhow.  It's  ridiculous  —  all  of  us  stand- 
ing around  you, —  your  wife  and  your  doctor  and 
your  lawyer;  all  begging  you  for  Misery's  sake  to 
take  a  million  dollars  and  enjoy  it,  and  not  kill  your- 
self. And  these  other  fellows  getting  mad  and  try- 
ing to  ram  it  down  your  throat.  It  is  ridiculous, 
now,  ain't  it?  " 


328     The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

"  We'd  have  thought  so,"  I  said,  "  five  years  ago. 

I  can  see  you  now,"   I  said,   "  I  God,  I  have  to 
laugh.     I  can  see  just  the  way  you  looked  when  you 
first  stepped  in  that  old  office  door  in  that  butternut- 
colored  overcoat." 

And  then  we  grinned  —  and  shut  up  for  a  minute. 

"  Did  you  keep  it,  Pasc?  "  I  asked  him.  "  That 
coat  ?  Oh,  you  ought  to  have  kept  it  —  and  have  it 
stuffed.  Put  up  somewhere  as  a  monument." 

"  Or  a  warning,"  said  Pasc. 

"  I  wish  I  was  back,  quite  often,"  I  said,  "  just 
you  and  I,  starting  there  over  again !  " 

"  So  do  I,"  said  Pasc. 

"  I  guess  we're  that  way,  some,  both  of  us.  I 
guess  most  of  us  are  who  were  raised  in  a  machine 
shop.  We  all  like  to  be  our  own  boss,  puttering 
around  in  our  own  place.  We're  too  independent. 
That  was  one  trouble  with  me  in  this  thing." 

"  I  suppose  so,"  said  Pasc,  and  stopped  thinking. 

"  It  was  our  baby,  Pasc,"  I  said  to  him  for  the 
thousandth  time.  "  We  raised  it  —  from  nothing." 
*  Yes,"  he  said,  staring  into  the  fireplace. 

And  after  that  awhile,  he  started  and  asked  me 
about  everybody  in  the  shop,  including  old  Tom 
Powers  and  his  wife. 

"How's  the  old  Miracle  getting  on  for  him?" 
Pasc  asked  me. 

"  He's    still    puttering    around    on    it,"    I    said. 

II  Watching  nights,  and  pecking  away  with  his  left 
hand  on  the  thing  —  discovering  perpetual  motion. 
It's  funny,  ain't  it?" 

"  Yes,  it  is,"  said  Pasc,  looking  off,  remembering. 


Memories  329 

"  And  he  won't  take  a  dollar  from  anybody.  I've 
tried  him  several  times." 

"  I  know  you  have." 

"  He's  proud;  the  old  man's  proud,"  I  said. 
"  He'll  work  till  his  last  gasp  —  fooling  with  that 
old  contraption,  to  keep  his  mind  busy  on  the  side." 

"  He  ain't  suffering  for  anything!  "  said  Pasc. 

"  No,"  I  said,  "  I'd  see  to  that,  anyhow.  But 
I'm  sorry  for  the  old  man,  Pasc,  especially  since  that 
thing  —  the  boy !  I  wouldn't  say  so,"  I  said. 
"  But  I  will  now.  I  always  felt  a  little  responsible 
for  that  thing." 

And  when  I  said  it,  I  saw  I  hadn't  ought  to.  I 
saw  his  hand  go  up  to  his  head  —  thinking  of  it 
again. 

"  Responsible  —  no,"  he  said.  "  It  wasn't  any- 
body's fault,  I  guess,"  he  said,  kind  of  slow.  "  It 
happened,  that's  all;  because  it  had  to!  The  way 
things  do.  We're  all  to  blame  —  some !  " 

And  I  changed  the  subject,  and  got  back,  talking 
of  old  times,  when  we  started. 

"  The  fact  was,  I  suppose,  we  got  in  it  just 
about  right,  when  we  did,"  I  said.  "  We  struck  it 
rich." 

"  Better  than  gold  and  rubies  and  precious 
stones." 

44  Yes." 

"  Yes,"  said  Pasc,  nodding  his  old  head,  "  we  had 
that  right  at  first  —  that's  where  the  gold  mines  are 
today.  That's  the  thing  they've  got  to  have  — 
everybody." 

"What's  that?"  I  asked  him. 


330    The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

"  Speed.  That's  where  the  money  is  now.  Look 
at  it  —  in  telegraphs,  telephones,  bicycles,  railroads, 
automobiles.  In  them,  or  the  stuff  to  build  them ! 
Speed,"  he  said.  "  There's  where  the  money's  been 
for  fifty  years:  saving  people's  time;  crosscuts! 
The  American  people  have  got  to  hurry." 

"  By  and  by,"  I  said,  "  if  they  don't  look  out,  they 
may  get  going  too  fast,  some  of  them !  " 

And  he  grinned  —  that  sudden  disappearing  grin 

—  and  went  on  again. 

"  They're  getting  up  into  the  air  now,"  he  said. 
"  The  next  things  are  flying  machines.  We're  going 
to  see  great  changes  in  the  next  ten  years.  We're 
going  off  of  wheels,  up  in  the  air!  " 

"  Hitting  her  up  two  hundred  miles  an  hour,  I 
suppose." 

"  Easy,"  he  said.  "  I'm  working  on  that  some, 
now." 

And  he  dug  out  his  pencil  and  old  envelope  again 

—  and  started  to  draw  me  a  diagram  of  what  he  was 
doing  now  on  a  carburetor;  and  a  counterbalancing 
idea  to  keep  those  aeroplane  engines  from  heating 
up,    and  keep   them    from   grinding   themselves   to 
pieces. 

'  There'll  be  a  barrel  of  money  in  that  some  day," 
I  said,  "  maybe  —  for  somebody !  " 

'*  There  will,  probably,"  he  said. 

"  It's  a  darn  funny  thing,  ain't  it,"  I  said,  "  when 
you  think  of  it,  how  money's  made." 

"  It  is,"  said  Pasc. 

'  Two  fellows  like  you  and  me,"  I  said,  "  get  a 
hold  of  one  of  these  Miracles  that  old  Tom  talks 


Memories  331 

about  —  and  grab  on  to  it.  And  it  pulls  them  along 
up  with  it." 

"  As  long  as  they  hang  on,"  said  Pasc. 

"  And  the  fellow  that  hangs  on  longest,  and  has 
it  last,  gets  the  most,"  I  said.  "  And  that  ain't 
fair,  either,  generally.  Look  at  you  and  me.  You 
got  up  this  thing  —  and  I  get  my  half  from  you. 
And  you  get  a  third  of  a  million  and  I  get  a  mil- 
lion!" 

And  then  I  stopped.  And  he  grinned,  and  I 
grinned,  when  I  realized  what  I'd  said.  We  both 
knew  that  what  I  would  do  was  settled  —  now ! 

"  Whatever  I  do  —  fight  or  sell,"  I  said,  correct- 
ing myself.  "  I  get  more  than  you.  And  that  ain't 
exactly  fair." 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know,"  said  Pasc.  "  Money  isn't 
given  out  that  way,  as  awards  of  merit  exactly.  It 
can't  be.  Who'd  give  it?  " 

"  But  it  ain't  distributed  right,  just  the  same. 
You  know  that,  and  I  know  it.  We  earned  our 
money.  You  can't  say  anything  against  that.  The 
man  who  gets  up  a  thing  like  this,"  I  said,  "  and  the 
man  who  stands  by  and  jams  her  through  don't  get 
anything  more  than  is  coming  to  him." 

"  What  about  the  fellow  working  on  it,  nine  hours 
a  day  in  the  shop.  The  way  you  and  I  were,  you 
might  say,  both  of  us,  before  this?  "  he  asked  me. 

"  They  get  all  that's  coming  to  them." 

"I  don't  know!" 

"  You  ain't  getting  to  be  one  of  these  socialists?  " 
I  asked  him. 

"  No.     I  don't  know  as  I  am,"  said  Pasc. 


332     The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

"  Well,  I'm  not,"  I  told  him.  "  And  I  don't  take 
any  stock  in  them.  I  never  knew  one  yet  that  would 
do  a  full  day's  work  in  his  life.  They're  the  talkers, 
not  the  workers,"  I  said.  "  I  can  go  right  down  to 
any  machine  shop  and  pick  out  the  socialists  by  the 
amount  of  work  they  do  —  or  they  don't  do,  you'd 
better  say.  They're  the  talkers  —  not  the  work- 
ers!" 

"  Maybe  they  might  do  us  some  good,"  said  Pasc. 
"  Talking  us  into  doing  something  different." 

"  You  don't  believe  in  that  stuff,  do  you?  "  I  asked 
him  again. 

"  No,"  he  answered  me.  "  I  don't  know  as  I  do. 
I  just  think  they  might  be  something  different  — 
some  way." 

"  Maybe,"  I  said.  "  But  the  thing  that  makes 
me  mad  is  these  damned  still-faced  dudes  in  the 
bank  we've  been  talking  about;  these  fellows  that 
have  got  control  of  all  the  money  there  is,  here  and 
down  on  Wall  Street. 

'  You  puff  and  grunt,  and  break  your  back,  and 
sweat  blood,  and  get  a  thing  just  about  up  and  totter- 
ing on  its  legs,  the  way  we  did  —  and  they  come 
along  and  reach  out  their  lily  hand,  as  the  fellow 
says,  and  take  it  away  from  you !  Look  you  in 
the  face,  with  that  damned  mean  expressionless  look, 
and  walk  off  with  it,  as  if  they  were  entitled  to  it. 
Some  time  or  other  —  sooner  or  later,  they'll  grab  it 
away  from  you !  If  it  isn't  here  at  home  —  if  it  gets 
big  enough,  it'll  be  one  of  those  fellows  that  runs  one 
of  these  million-dollar  machines  on  Wall  Street. 

"  What  kind  of  a  fellow  was  this,"  I  asked  him, 


Memories  333 

breaking  off,  "  that  you  saw  on  the  steamer  —  that 
had  charge  of  this  Universal  Motors  for  Magnus 
and  Company.  He's  never  come  to  see  me  —  only 
his  head  agents,  once  or  twice.  Billings  even  hasn't 
got  to  him  a  great  many  times." 

"  Oh,  he's  the  same  kind  as  Billings  is,  in  a  way 

—  but  smarter  looking,  with  smarter  eyes,"   said 
Pasc. 

"All  dressed  up  like  Sunday  evening  —  all  the 
time,  I  suppose.  And  manners  like  an  actor  walk- 
ing out  in  the  afternoon.  And  a  face  you  could 
crack  nuts  on." 

"  Not  quite  so  bad,"  said  Pasc,  grinning. 

"  And  back  of  him,"  said  I,  "  as  I  understand  it 

—  are  the  old  crooks  like  old  Magnus  was,  and 
Stoneman  and  old  Backus,  with  faces  stiller  than  a 
mummy;  and  brains  in  back  going  thirty-five  hundred 
revolutions  a  minute,  thinking  what  they  can  pick  up 
and  carry  off  out  of  the  country  next.     Those  old 
devils  sitting  in  back  there  that  nobody  ever  sees. 

"  I  God,"  I  said.  "  They're  the  boys  we're  all 
working  for,  when  it  comes  down  to  the  facts  in  the 
case.  All  of  us,  all  over  the  country.  I've  watched 
that  game,  what  I  could.  I've  always  wondered, 
more  or  less,  about  these  ten  million  and  hundred 
million  and  five-hundred-million  boys  down  in  Wall 
Street,  waiting,  waiting,  for  everything  to  drift  in 
there.  I  never  understood  it  quite.  All  I  know, 
and  everybody  else  does,  is  they've  got  it  all  fixed 
right  for  themselves. 

"  Is  it  all  crooked,  do  you  think,  or  does  it  just 
have  to  be  ?  Do  any  one  set  of  men  have  to  have  so 


334    The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

much  power?  What  do  you  think?  Or  did  you 
ever  think  about  it?  " 

"  He  explained  it  to  me,"  said  Pasc,  "  a  little  — 
on  the  steamer,  that  partner.  It  sounds  all  natural 
as  water  running  down  hill." 

"To  hear  him  tell  it,"  I  said. 

"  It's  just  like  Billings'  bank  in  a  way  —  here  in 
town.  They've  got  the  money." 

"  So  I  might  get  control  of  all  the  water  in  the 
county,"  I  said.  "  But  that  wouldn't  make  it  right." 

"  They've  got  the  money;  and  sooner  or  later  bus- 
iness things  drift  into  them.  They've  got  to  — 
from  all  over." 

"  We  know  that,"  I  said.  "  Ourselves,  from  ex- 
perience. Right  here.  Never  once  from  the  time 
we  started  has  the  finger  of  somebody  with  money 
been  off  us." 

"  And  especially  as  things  like  ours  get  bigger," 
said  Pasc,  "  and  grow  faster  —  they're  always  fewer 
to  get  the  money  from.  Especially  when  they  get 
up  to  a  certain  size.  Then  they  have  to  all  drift  into 
one  place." 

"  New  York?" 

'  Yes,"  said  Pasc,  "  yes.  And  he  explained  that 
to  me  —  just  the  same  as  the  other.  That's  the  only 
place  they  can  go.  The  only  place  with  money 
enough.  They've  got  to,  sooner  or  later,  come  in 
there." 

"  And  they  sit  there,"  I  said,  "  with  their  faces 
still  and  their  eyes  still  and  their  hands  still,  till  it 
gets  just  right.  And  then  —  Zip  —  they  grab  it!  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Pasc. 


Memories  335 

"  For  they've  got  the  only  million-dollar  machine 
in  the  country." 

"  Stock  machine,"  said  Pasc.  "  Stock  factory,  I 
should  call  it." 

"  Maybe,"  I  said.  "  But  it  all  comes  to  the  same 
thing.  It's  money  they  turn  out  of  it  finally  —  for 
themselves." 

1  Yes,  it  all  comes  to  that  finally,"  said  Pasc, 
thinking.  "  Has  to.  He  admitted  that." 

"  And  they  keep  their  eyes  out  too,  watching."  I 
said,  "  all  the  time.  Don't  forget  that!  " 

''  They  have  fellows  like  Billings,  of  course,"  said 
Pasc,  "all  over  the  country,  who  know  them  in  the 
banking  business.  And  they  have  to  come  to  them, 
when  they  get  anything  big  in  their  own  neighbor- 
hood." 

"  Sure,"  I  came  back.  "  Just  as  I  always  said. 
They've  got  their  wires  out,  and  their  spies  —  watch- 
ing, watching,  watching,  all  over  the  country  —  feel- 
ing of  everything  that  comes  up." 

"  It  is  a  regular  machine  —  little  wheels  and  big 
wheels,  all  meshed  in  together,"  said  Pasc. 
1  That's  what  I  always  thought  about  it.  All  run- 
ning along  in  oil." 

"  That's  just  what  it  is,"  said  I,  "a  regular  ma- 
chine —  a  million-dollar  machine,  run  to  turn  out 
hundreds  of  millions,  like  Proctor  Billings  would  a 
hundred  thousand.  A  billion  machine,  more  likely 
—  a  billion  machine,"  I  said,  "with  its  little  cogs 
and  big  cogs  turning  day  and  night  all  over  the  coun- 
try, coining  money  on  the  quiet,  out  of  what  we  all 
do. 


336     The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

"  We've  got  about  as  much  show  against  it,"  I 
said;  "  you  and  I  in  the  end,  as  a  fly  holding  up  a 
steam  roller." 

"  Just  about,"  said  Pasc. 

"  I  God,"  I  said.  "  There's  nothing  in  the  world 
I'd  like  so  much  as  a  peep  in  the  inside  of  how  they 
work  that  big  money  machine  of  theirs  down  there  in 
Wall  Street. 

"  To  tell  you  the  truth,"  I  said,  "  what  I  never 
said  to  any  other  man  in  my  life.  I'm  afraid  of  it! 
And  I  guess  I'm  not  the  only  one  either." 

"  You're  not,"  said  Pasc.  "  Everybody  is,  I 
guess,  more  or  less." 

And  after  that  we  quit  and  went  to  bed.  I  could 
see  Pasc  was  getting  tired. 

"Don't  he  look  dreadful  to  you?"  said  Polly, 
after  we  got  upstairs.  '  Those  eyes  I  " 

"  There's  nothing  else  to  him,"  said  I.  "  It  re- 
minds me  of  what  we  thought  when  we  were  boys 
in  the  country  sometimes  —  an  old  pair  of  eyes,  with 
nothing  in  back  of  them,  wandering  around  a  grave- 
yard in  the  dark." 

"  That's  not  what  he  reminds  me  of,  exactly,"  said 
Polly.  "  He  reminds  me  always  of  a  man  pos- 
sessed. With  a  spirit  in  him  destroying  him  —  like 
the  man  in  the  Bible." 

"  Yes,"  I  said,  "  that's  right,  too.  He  does  me, 
tearing  him,  wearing  him  out!  " 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

SUNDAY   AFTERNOON 

We  saw  them  back  to  the  train  —  Polly  and  I  — 
about  a  week  after  that,  when  Pasc  had  got  what 
he  came  after  —  and  I'd  agreed  to  sign  up  finally. 
Polly  and  I  sat  there  going  home,  each  one  in  our 
own  corner  of  the  limousine. 

'  You  want  to  remember  one  thing,  Bill,"  said 
Polly,  putting  her  hand  on  my  arm,  kind  of  softly, 
after  we'd  got  nearly  home.  "  You  mustn't  be  sur- 
prised if  you  hear  bad  news  some  time  from  Pasc." 

And  I  looked  at  her. 

"  He's  a  pretty  sick  man,  I'm  afraid,"  she  said. 
'  We've  got  to  get  prepared  for  most  anything." 

And  I  didn't  say  anything  for  a  minute. 

"  All  I  hope  is,"  I  said  finally,  "  that  coming  over 
here  hasn't  made  him  worse.  I  hope  I  won't  be  re- 
sponsible for  anything!  " 

"  You  don't  want  to  get  that  idea  on  your  mind," 
said  Polly.  "  That's  the  thing  Zetta  has  now  all  the 
time,  and  can't  get  rid  of  —  about  herself." 

"  That's  so,  I  suppose,"  I  said. 

"  I  sometimes  think  we  ain't  any  of  us  responsible 
for  anything,"  said  Polly. 

"  We  ain't  —  much,  either,"  said  I,  thinking. 


338     The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

"  Zetta  is  changed,  isn't  she?  "  I  said  after  awhile. 

"  Yes,"  said  Polly.  "  Scarcely  a  loud  laugh  out 
of  her  while  she  was  here." 

"  You  can't  blame  her." 

'  There  never  was  a  day  in  her  life,"  said  Polly, 
"  she  didn't  worship  the  ground  he  walked  on." 

"  I  suppose  not,"  said  I. 

And  I  sat  back,  thinking  of  Pasc  and  the  days  we 
started  out  and  worked  together. 

I  thought  of  him  again  that  next  day  —  Sunday 
afternoon,  it  was  —  when  I  went  into  the  factory 
office  to  pick  up  and  clear  out  my  desk.  We  weren't 
going  to  clean  up  the  business  and  make  the  final 
transfers  till  Tuesday.  But  it  was  as  good  as  done, 
and  I  thought  I'd  go  in  and  get  through  and  get  out 
again,  when  I  had  the  place  to  myself,  and  there 
wasn't  anybody  else  there  to  watch  me. 

I  went  over  about  three  o'clock  —  after  dinner. 
And  left  the  car  in  back,  and  went  in  the  back  way 
through  the  factory.  It  was  cold  in  there.  They'd 
let  the  fire  go  down  over  Sunday;  and  the  place 
seemed  extra  still  and  lonesome,  coming  in  —  as  a 
factory  always  does  Sundays,  anyhow.  All  those 
big  heavy  machines  that  make  so  much  crash  and 
jangle  week  days  standing  still,  and  all  the  men  gone. 
Nothing  left.  Just  the  big  vacant  white-washed 
place,  all  sprawled  full  of  stuff  —  pulleys  and  belts 
and  levers,  dark  where  the  soiled  hands  of  the  work- 
men had  been.  All  standing  still  and  idle  —  wait- 
ing! 

Most  of  the  machines,  of  course,  were  new.  But 
some  of  them,  I  could  see,  were  the  original  old  ma- 


Sunday  Afternoon  339 

chines  we  started  with  in  the  old  place.  I  stopped 
and  took  hold  of  one  and  worked  the  lever. 

Then  I  went  along.  It  was  in  March  —  pretty 
cold  still.  It  wasn't  any  too  warm  in  the  office. 

I  hustled  around  then,  getting  everything  out  as 
fast  as  I  could.  I  didn't  want  to  stay  around  there 
much  now  I  was  going.  I  wanted  to  get  out  and 
get  through.  I  always  did  kind  of  hate  to  move  out 
of  anywhere  —  for  the  last  time. 

I  shoved  everything  into  a  couple  of  bags  finally, 
and  looked  around  to  see  if  there  was  anything  else 
I'd  overlooked.  I  stood  there  and  looked  around 
—  and  it  struck  me :  "  This  is  the  last  time,  I'll 
ever  be  here  —  probably !  " 

It  gave  me  a  kind  of  a  twist.  I  don't  deny  it. 
It  would,  I  guess,  to  anybody,  going  out  that  way  — 
leaving  a  business  you'd  built  up  the  way  I  did.  The 
way  Pasc  and  I  built  up  that  one. 

"  Well,  after  all,"  I  said,  "  you  ain't  like  a  man 
that's  going  to  be  hung!  "  And  I  clapped  on  my 
hat  and  started. 

But  I  couldn't  help  thinking  when  I  started  out, 
again:  "  It's  the  last  time!  And  it's  not  only  the 
last  time  for  you,  but  in  two  months  more  there 
won't  be  any  factory  here  at  all.  It  will  be  all  out 
in  Detroit  —  all  gone !  All  vanished,  as  if  it  never 
was  in  existence. 

"  Let's  get  out  of  this!  "  I  said.  And  I  took  up 
my  two  bags,  and  started  out  back  again. 

The  sun  was  getting  pretty  well  down  now.  It 
looked  empty  as  the  devil  out  there.  The  still  old 
crooked  shadows  of  the  machinery  lay  tangled  up 


340     The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

against  the  whitewashed  walls  —  marked  out  by  the 
late  pinkish  March  sunset  shining  in  the  windows 
opposite. 

I  went  along,  getting  out  as  fast  as  I  could,  when 
who  should  come  out  from  one  of  the  tin  doors  in 
the  fire  wall  but  old  Tom  Powers,  poking  around, 
looking  out  for  the  place. 

"  Why,  hello,  Tom !  "  I  said,  and  dropped  my 
grips.  It  seemed  good  and  natural  to  see  him  again. 

"  I  didn't  know  but  what  I  had  a  burglar  here," 
he  said,  and  grinned  —  that  little  old  wrinkled 
deaths-head  smile  of  his. 

"  I  will  be  after  this  week,"  I  said.  "  They'll 
arrest  me  if  they  find  me  in  here." 

"  You're  getting  through,"  said  Tom,  "  as  boss. 
So  I  hear.  Well,  I'm  sorry  to  hear  it." 

"  I'm  sorry,  too,"  I  said.  "  When  you've  been 
hitched  up  to  a  thing  the  way  I  have  been  to  this, 
Tom,  it  comes  kind  of  hard  giving  it  up." 

"  It  does,"  said  Tom. 

"  But  it  can't  be  helped,"  I  said.  "  It  might  be  a 
lot  worse." 

"  It  might,"  said  Tom,  peering  at  me  with  his 
little  eyes.  "  And  Mr.  Thomas.  Where  is  he 
now?  " 

"  Gone  abroad  again.     He  ain't  very  well." 

"  I'm  sorry  to  hear  that,"  said  Tom.  "  He  was 
a  good  man." 

"  Well,  we  can't  have  everything,"  I  said. 

"  No,"  he  said.  "  It  might  be  worse.  You're 
both  rich  men,  so  I  hear.  It's  made  you  both  rich 
—  the  old  Hoodlum." 


Sunday  Afternoon  341 

"  Yep,"  I  said,  "  Tom.  We  two  cashed  in  on 
our  Miracle.  It's  your  turn  next.  What  about 
you?  "  I  asked  him.  "  Did  Mr.  Billings  fix  you  up 
—  get  you  a  new  job,  when  they  moved  the  plant  out 
to  Detroit." 

*  Yes,  I'm  going  to  stay  here  for  a  while  anyhow, 
watching  this  place  for  him  —  while  they  empty  it 
out.  And  I  guess  right  along  after." 

"  He  told  me  he'd  look  out  for  you,"  I  said. 

"  He  treated  me  all  right,"  said  Tom. 

"  Look  here,"  I  said  to  him.  The  old  man 
looked  pretty  wabbly  to  me.  "  Don't  you  think  yet 
you've  got  enough  of  being  night  watchman?  " 

"  No,  I  don't  know  as  I've  had,"  he  said,  looking 
up  at  me.  "What  else  would  I  do?  Besides,  it 
gives  me  a  place  to  work  on  my  invention,  odd  times, 
I  wouldn't  get  anywhere  else.  The  boys  always 
leave  me  their  tools  —  or  they  have." 

"  You  won't  have  them  now." 

11  No.     But  I'll  get  along." 

"  How  is  she  now?  "  I  said,  smiling.  "  How  is 
the  old  Miracle?" 

11  She's  all  right,"  he  said,  smiling  back,  like  a 
good-natured  old  mummy. 

"  Still  the  coming  thing?  "  I  asked  him. 

"  Just  as  I  always  said,"  he  answered  me. 
you  see,"  he  asked  me,  that  old  kind  of  eager,  in- 
ventor's look  coming  back  into  his  eyes  — "  did  you 
see  how  they're  flying  abroad  now  —  hundreds  of 
miles  in  those  aryplanes  —  the  Wright  boys  and 
them  they  sold  them  to.  Flying  in  the  air  better 
and  better  all  the  time  —  thousands  of  them! 


342    The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

What  do  you  think  of  that?     What  did  you  think 
of  it  ten  years  ago? 

"  They're  flying  in  the  air  all  over,"  he  said,  his 
eyes  getting  brighter  and  brighter.  "  Is  it  any  fun- 
nier for  you  and  me,  then,"  he  asked  me,  "  to  get 
the  power  out  of  the  air,  than  for  them  to  be  flying 
around  in  it?  " 

"  No,  I  guess  not,"  I  said.  It  seemed  to  me  the 
old  man  got  a  little  looser  and  queerer  every  year 
on  that  thing  of  his.  Why  wouldn't  he,  working 
away  at  it  with  that  old  left  hand  of  his,  night  after 
night,  in  that  old  dark  lonesome  factory? 

"  Don't  you  ever  get  sick  of  it,"  I  said,  "  walking 
around  here  at  night?  " 

"  No,"  he  said.  "  I  got  something  all  the  time 
to  occupy  my  mind." 

"  That's  more  than  I'll  have  now,"  I  said.  "  But 
I'll  tell  you  what  I'll  do,"  I  told  him.  "  What  I'm 
looking  forward  to  now,"  said  I,  taking  up  that  old 
joke  of  ours  together.  "  When  you  get  around  to  it, 
I'll  just  about  take  up  that  option  of  ten  thousand 
shares  of  stock  in  the  old  Miracle.  That's  a  million 
dollar's  worth. 

"Or  —  I  tell  you  what  I  will  do,"  I  said,  getting 
serious.  "  I'll  put  in  ten  thousand  dollars  right 
now,  on  account.  I'll  back  you  to  that  extent,  when- 
ever you  want  to  get  through  here  —  and  take  me 
up!" 

'  You're  a  damned  good  man,  Bill  Morgan,"  said 
old  Tom,  staring  at  me.  "  You  always  was.  The 
men  all  liked  you,"  he  said,  and  stood  staring  at  me 
a  little  while. 


Sunday  Afternoon  343 

"  But  it  ain't  no  use.  You  can't  do  that  to  me," 
he  said,  with  a  kind  of  crafty  smile.  I  think  he 
was  just  a  little  touched  in  the  upper  story  now  — 
beginning  to  be.  '  You  can't  do  that  to  me.  You 
can't  make  me  take  your  money  while  I  can  earn  my 
own.  What  would  I  do  with  it  if  I  had  it?  Sit 
around  the  house  with  the  old  woman?  " 

'  You  could  work  there,"  said  I,  "  on  the  Mir- 
acle." 

"  Not  so  well  as  I  could  here.  And  besides,  what 
would  I  stop  for  —  when  I'm  still  able  to  support 
myself  and  get  along?  I'll  tame  my  own  Miracle, 
and  harness  her  up  —  by  the  grace  of  God,"  he  said. 
And  laughed  that  cracked  old  laugh  of  his.  "  And 
some  day,"  he  said,  "when  I  get  a  good  thing  — 
when  I've  got  her  worked  out,  under  control,  I'll 
ride  her  over  to  your  place.  I'll  put  her  on  wheels 
and  ride  over  to  see  you.  And  you  can  put  your 
money  in  her  then !  " 

The  sun  got  in  back  of  the  corner  of  one  of  the 
small  shops  across  the  road,  and  went  out  entirely, 
then;  and  the  crooked  shadows  of  the  machinery 
died  off  the  white  brick  wall.  All  at  once  it  seemed 
kind  of  blue  and  chilly  in  there.  I  knew  I'd  got  to 
go  pretty  quick,  anyhow. 

"  All  right.  I'll  be  looking  for  you,  riding  up," 
I  said,  getting  up  my  grips.  And  I  went  along,  and 
left  him,  standing  there  in  the  aisle  between  the  ma- 
chines. 

The  dusk  was  coming  in  fast;  the  place  was  lone- 
lier than  Tophet.  I  looked  back  once  before  I  shut 
the  door.  The  old  man  still  stood  there  where  I 


344     The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

left  him  —  like  an  old  ghost  in  the  place.  Some- 
thing that  belonged  there,  and  couldn't  get  away. 
He  stood  there,  watching,  till  finally  I  shut  myself 
out  of  my  factory  —  that  last  time. 

I  never  went  back  in  there  afterwards.     I  never 
wanted  to. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

TWO    PIECES   OF    PAPER 

'  This  is  the  day,"  said  Polly  to  me,  both  of  us 
waking  up  early. 

"  Yes,"  I  said,  and  lay  there  till  breakfast  time, 
staring  at  the  ceiling,  thinking. 

I  was  over  at  Billings'  bank,  with  my  lawyer  at 
eleven  o'clock,  according  to  agreement  —  anxious  to 
get  my  money,  and  get  it  over  with;  and  see  this 
man  from  Magnus  and  Company.  Just  one  of  the 
younger  ones  —  but  a  partner  just  the  same ! 

He  stood  back  to  me  when  I  came  in  the  door, 
looking  at  one  of  the  pictures  of  the  sheep  on  the 
walls  of  the  private  reception  room.  I  couldn't  tell 
much  about  him,  except  he  was  tall,  and  looked 
pretty  young  —  with  just  a  little  grey  hair  in  his 
head! 

"  Yes,"  said  Billings,  talking  to  him,  giving  me  his 
back  as  long  as  possible.  "  They  were  my  father's 
choice.  He  was  born  on  a  farm;  he  was  always 
fond  of  pictures  of  sheep.  He  was  an  austere  man 
on  the  outside  —  but  he  had  quite  a  vein  of  sentiment 
in  him,  down  deep.  He  didn't  show  it  to  many 
people  —  only  to  my  mother  and  myself.  But  he 
developed  quite  a  taste  for  painting  in  his  late  life  — 
especially  for  these  things,  which  reminded  him  of 
his  early  associations." 


S46    The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

"  They're  very  good,"  said  the  man  from  Mag- 
nus and  Company. 

"  Yes,"  said  Billings.  "  They  are  —  I  think. 
The  old  man  had  no  education  in  art,  of  course.  Or 
in  any  other  way  really.  He  was  not  an  educated 
man  in  the  narrow  sense  of  the  word.  What  he  did 
was  by  sheer  will  power  and  mental  ability." 

"  I  have  heard  Mr.  Magnus  speak  of  him,  before 
his  death,"  said  the  other  man,  "  as  a  man  of  great 
natural  powers." 

"  I'm  glad  to  know  that,"  said  Billings.  "  He 
was  that,  exactly — a  diamond  in  the  rough." 

"  Mr.  Magnus  was  a  New  Englander,  of  course, 
himself,"  said  the  New  Yorker. 

"  I  know,"  said  Billings. 

And  then  they  heard  me,  or  pretended  to,  and 
turned  around;  and  Billings  introduced  us.  And  we 
went  in  and  sat  down  in  Billings'  private  office,  under 
his  father's  old  picture.  And  I  watched  the  two  of 
them  close,  while  we  went  through  with  it. 

There  was  nothing  to  do  much,  but  sign  and  take 
my  money.  It  had  all  been  fixed  by  the  lawyers  in 
advance. 

'  You  don't  want  me,"  said  my  lawyer.  He  was 
kind  of  a  rough  talking,  hearty  kind  of  fellow,  "  any 
more  than  two  tails.  This  is  all  right  from  our 
standpoint.  The  other  people  are  the  ones  to  look 
out.  They're  the  buyers." 

;'  We're  perfectly  satisfied,"  said  the  Magnus 
partner.  "  We  don't  think  Mr.  Morgan  would 
cheat  us."  And  smiled. 

He  had  a  pleasant  agreeable  smile  on  him  —  an 


Two  Pieces  of  Paper  347 

easy  kind  of  way  He  was  a  good  looking  young- 
ish fellow  —  not  a  day  over  forty-two  or  three. 
Tall  and  slim  like  Billings.  A  quiet  dresser.  There 
wasn't  a  diamond  on  him  anywhere.  Not  even  a 
scarfpin;  but  his  clothes  showed  the  money  all  right 
—  made  him  look  young,  the  way  those  New  York 
clothes  do.  He  was  kept  up  every  way,  you  could 
see  that,  like  a  fine  race  horse. 

"  So  this  is  the  kind  that  runs  us,"  I  thought  to 
myself  —  keeping  my  eye  on  him,  watching  just 
what  he  did. 

He  had  this  easy  way  with  him,  and  all  the  time 
in  the  world  apparently.  The  thing  he  was  up  to 
didn't  worry  him  at  all  —  a  million  more  or  less. 
He  was  willing  to  talk  about  anything,  from  business 
to  Billings's  flowers. 

I  talked  with  him  myself  quite  a  little,  while  they 
were  getting  some  of  the  papers  together  outside. 
We  got  to  talking  about  our  line  of  business. 

"  In  some  ways,"  he  said  to  me,  "  I've  always 
thought  your  line  was  the  biggest  thing  in  the  coun- 
try; your  manufacturing  sections  like  this,  and  the 
people  that  grow  up  in  them  —  and  these  different 
machine  shops,  real  expert  machinists,  I  mean,  now. 

"  They  speak  of  farmers,"  he  told  me,  "  as  the 
foundation  of  everything  in  this  country  —  from  the 
beginning.  But  in  a  way  these  people  —  these  ma- 
chinists—  are  more  American  than  they  are. 
More  thinkers  —  more  outspoken  and  independent.1 

"  I  God,  yes,"  I  said.  "  That's  the  trouble  with 
us,  I  guess.  Too  much  outspoken." 

And  he  laughed. 


348    The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

And  Proctor  Billings,  who  was  listening,  smiled  a 
kind  of  frosty  smile  —  all  below  the  nose. 

"  But  a  good  workman,"  I  said,  "  we  always  say, 
is  apt  to  be  crochety." 

"  I  believe  you,"  he  said.  "  Men  have  got  to  be 
more  or  less  that  do  their  own  thinking  —  have 
to,  in  their  own  business,  day  after  day." 

"  Too  much  thinking  makes  a  man  cross,  anyway," 
said  I. 

The  Magnus  partner  laughed  again. 

"  I  believe  you,"  he  said. 

"  You  thought  I  was  crooked,"  said  I,  looking  at 
him.  "  Didn't  you?  You  thought  I  was  holding 
you  up." 

"  That's  putting  it  a  little  bluntly,"  he  answered 
me. 

"  Put  it  any  way  you  want  to.  You  thought  so ! 
But  I  wasn't.  All  it  was,  when  it  came  down  to  giv- 
ing up  my  business,  and  not  being  my  own  man  —  I 
found  I  couldn't  make  up  my  mind  to  do  it.  I've 
wanted  to  be  independent  always.  I  guess  it's  in  our 
blood  —  us  fellows  raised  in  a  machine  shop,  the 
way  I  was." 

"  I  think  you  may  be  right,"  he  said. 

"  I  know  I  am.  The  truth  is,"  I  told  him,  "  I'd 
be  fighting  you  now  —  in  spite  of  my  wife  and  my 
doctor  and  my  lawyer  —  if  my  old  partner  and 
the  best  friend  I  ever  had  hadn't  come  back  from 
Europe  and  shown  me  I  was  making  a  fool  of 
myself. 

"  And  I  don't  know  now  but  he  killed  himself  do- 
ing it !  "  I  said  —  and  stopped. 


Two  Pieces  of  Paper  349 

'  Mr.  Thomas,  you  mean,"  said  he. 
'Yes,"    I    said.     "The   best   fellow    that   ever 
lived." 

"He    seemed   a    very   unusual    man,"    he    said. 
'  What  little  I  saw  of  him." 

1  You  bet  he  is,"  said  I.     "  And  the  straightest 
haired  man  in  this  world." 

And  then  we  got  talking  about  Pasc  and  the  Hood- 
lum. And  I  told  him  how  Pasc  had  drawn  the  whole 
machine,  you  might  say,  out  of  his  head;  about  his 
envelope  and  stub,  and  his  bench  in  the  shop;  and  his 
absent-minded  eyes,  and  his  never  resting  or  being 
satisfied  until  he  had  a  thing  perfect. 

"  I  don't  know  as  you  have  ever  seen  men  down 
your  way  just  like  him,"  I  said.  "  Those  old-time 
workmen  —  old-fashioned  machinists !  Those  bony 
sober-faced  fellows  in  overalls." 

He  nodded  his  head.  "  I've  seen  them,"  he  said, 
thinking,  "  those  faces.  When  I  was  a  boy.  I 
knew  one  man,  in  particular.  .  .  .  You  see  them 
now,  sometimes,"  he  said,  "  staring  out  the  door  of 
a  garage  —  with  those  eyes!  " 

"  And  a  smudge  on  the  end  of  their  nose." 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  and  laughed. 

"  They  are  the  salt  of  the  earth,"  I  said.  "  They 
keep  this  country  going  on,  as  you  say,  more  than 
anybody." 

"  You're  right,"  he  said.     "  That's  just  what  they 
do.     I  believe  it,"  he  said.     "  In  a  great  many  v 
these  men  with  the  metal  gauges  in  their  hands  have 
changed  the  face  of  the  world  more  than  the  man 
with  the  hoe  and  the  axe,  that  found  and  broke  in 


350    The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

our  continents.  And  they  are  going  to  still  more. 
They'll  be  our  chief  pioneers  from  now  on." 

"How?"  Billings  asked  him,  coming  into  the 
talk. 

"  In  the  air,  for  instance,"  he  explained  to  him. 
"  Pioneers,  not  in  continents  —  in  unknown  things 
—  big  forces." 

"  I  get  you,"  I  said.  "  Working  with  them,  day 
after  day;  fighting  them,  off  in  the  air  somewhere! 
That's  what  happened  to  Pasc.  He  got  hold  of 
something  out  there  too  big  for  him.  It  wore  him 
out." 

And  the  talk  stopped  a  minute. 

"  If  the  truth  was  told,"  I  said,  starting  it  up 
again,  "  I  did  the  same  thing  in  my  way.  I  got 
hold  of  something  that  was  too  big  for  me.  And 
now  I  have  got  to  drop  it  myself." 

"  It  is  pretty  big,  for  anybody,"  said  the  Magnus 
man  — "  a  sudden  new  industry,  like  this." 

"  It  doesn't  seem  too  big  for  you  people,"  I  said 
to  him.  "  You  people  with  the  money  and  the 
banks.  Or  anything  else !  You  take  them  all  as 
they  come." 

"  All  we  can  do  really  is  what  you  did  in  another 
way,"  he  said;  "watch  a  thing  and  direct  it  and 
keep  it  going." 

"  Ah-ha,"  I  said,  listening  to  him  explain  it 
through.  "  But  that  ain't  my  theory  of  it  exactly." 

"What  is?"  said  he. 

"  My  theory  is,"  I  told  him,  "  that  you've  got  the 
biggest  machine  of  all.  You've  got  the  money  ma- 
chine —  the  billion  machine,  that  all  this  other  ma- 


Two  Pieces  of  Paper  351 

chinery  works  for,  finally."     And  I  told  him  a  little 
about  the  way  Pasc  Thomas  and  I  used  to  discuss  it. 

He  laughed  again. 

"  I  never  heard  it  put  just  that  way  before,"  he 
said. 

"  It  takes  a  machinist  to  catch  a  machinist,"  said 
Proctor  Billings,  loosening  up  a  little  now. 

'  Yes,"  said  the  other  man. 

"  I  never  saw  very  far  into  it,"  I  said.  "  It  was 
always  a  mystery  to  me  —  your  machine  and  how  it 
worked,  and  the  control  you've  got  over  everything. 
I'd  rather  know  about  it  now  than  anything  I  can 
think  of." 

"  Come  on  down  some  time,"  said  the  Magnus 
man,  smiling.  "  And  I'll  try  to  show  it  to  you  — 
what  I  know  about  it.  It's  a  considerable  mystery 
to  me,"  he  said,  "  while  we're  starting  telling  the 
truth.  I'm  always  working,  trying  to  learn  it,  like 
your  friend  with  the  motor." 

And  then  they  brought  in  the  last  papers  finally. 
And  he  cast  his  eyes  over  them  for  a  minute  or  two, 
while  I  watched  him. 

He  was  easy  —  but  you  could  sec,  when  his  face 
went  still,  he  was  the  same  thing  as  Proctor  Billings 
—  the  same  still-faced  tribe,  when  you  got  down  un- 
derneath. All  the  look  of  knowing  something  you 
didn't  and  holding  it  back  on  you;  putting  everything 
up  to  you  all  the  time;  and  watching  you,  to  grab 
you  when  you  went  wrong.  I  watched  those  two  - 
Billings  and  him  —  talking  to  one  another  back  of 
those  masks  —  those  bankers'  faces;  their  own  kind 
of  talk.  This  New  Yorker  was  too  much  for  him ; 


352     The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

his  mind  went  leading  Billings'  mind  around  all  the 
time  like  a  dog  on  a  rope. 

"  What's  this?  "  said  the  Magnus  partner,  point- 
ing out  something  in  the  agreement  to  Billings. 

"  Oh !  I  don't  see  how  that  happened,"  said 
Billings.  You  could  see  he  was  flustered  in  spite 
of  himself.  "  My  mistake,"  he  said,  "  I'll  have  it 
corrected  at  once." 

"  It  would  be  better,  I  think,"  said  the  man  from 
New  York  —  kind  of  low  and  polite. 

That  was  all  he  said.  But  it  did  my  heart  good. 
He  was  giving  Billings  a  call-down  —  a  punishment. 
Not  a  voice,  nor  an  eyebrow  lifted.  But  you  could 
hear  it  coming  down  as  plain  as  an  Italian  woman 
spanking  a  baby.  You  could  see  how  deathly  afraid 
of  him  Proctor  Billings  was. 

"  Gripes,  what  power  he  must  have !  "  I  said  to 
myself,  watching  him  —  what  showed  through  that 
still  face  of  his.  But  never  able,  of  course,  to  see 
back  of  that  man's  mask  —  all  quiet  and  still  and 
polite !  He  was  too  much  for  me ;  I  had  to  acknowl- 
edge it  to  myself  —  sitting  there  waiting  for  my 
check. 

That  was  the  thing  really  now  —  my  check;  my 
million,  they  were  going  to  give  me  now.  I'd  been 
thinking  of  it,  naturally,  all  the  time  those  days  be- 
fore that  —  going  over  everything.  What  it  would 
have  meant  to  me  five  years  before;  all  the  fight  we 
had;  what  had  happened.  Now,  here  I  was  getting 
it! 

He  just  reached  his  hand  into  his  pocketbook, 
when  the  time  came,  and  took  out  this  big  check  — 


Two  Pieces  of  Paper  353 

.this  white  piece  of  paper  —  and  handed  it  to  me I 

had  to   laugh   almost  —  about  like  passing  you  a 
cigar. 

It  makes  no  more  impression  on  them  than 
that,"  I  said  to  myself.  "  They  have  to  hand  out 
these  millions  so  often  —  these  fellows  —  they  get 
awful  tired  of  it!  " 

"  Certified,"  he  said.  "  From  Magnus  and  Com- 
pany." 

I  grinned;  I  had  to.  "  That  ought  to  be  safe,"  I 
said;  "  what  do  you  think  about  it?  " 

"Hadn't  it?"  he  said  —  and  laughed  that  quick 
laugh  of  his,  showing  his  teeth. 

"  One  million  and  sixty-five  thousand,  three  hun- 
dred and  seventeen  dollars  and  thirty-seven  cents," 
I  said  reading. 

'  With  some  minor  adjustments!  " 

"  I  God,"  I  said.  "  I  think  you're  cheating  me. 
I  made  it  out  thirty-eight  cents  myself." 

And  we  laughed  again,  and  I  got  up  and  put  it 
in  my  pocket. 

"  I'm  going  to  take  it  home,"  I  said,  "  and  show 
it  to  the  wife.  And  then  I'm  going  to  bring  it 
back  here  for  Billings  to  take  care  of  for  me  —  for  a 
minute  or  two.  Then  I'm  coming  down  to  buy  you 
folks  out." 

"  Come  on.  Do,"  he  said  —  and  held  out  his 
long  hand,  smiling.  "  We  need  energetic  men  down 
there." 

"  Well,"  I  said,  "  give  my  regards  to  all  the  rest 
of  the  boys  down  there.  And  especially  young 
Magnus !  " 


354     The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

11  I'll  do  that,  too,"  he  said. 

"  So  long,"  I  said.     "  Good-by." 

Whatever  he  was,  or  whatever  he  could  do  to 
Billings,  to  the  banks,  or  the  railroads,  or  the  coun- 
try in  general,  I  wasn't  going  to  let  him  see  I  thought 
he  was  any  different  from  any  other  man. 

"  Good-by,"  he  said,  and  leaned  over  forward 
and  shook  hands  with  me,  as  if  he  was  shaking 
hands  with  the  King  of  England.  And  stood  smiling 
at  me  as  I  went  out. 

When  I  reached  the  door,  I  caught  one  last 
glimpse  of  him  —  turning  around.  His  smile 
stopped,  and  his  still  mask  fell  down  again  like  the 
outside  curtain  at  the  ending  of  a  play.  I  drove 
straight  home.  When  I  got  there,  Polly  was  out  on 
the  piazza  —  by  the  porte-cochere. 

"  Here  it  is,"  I  said,  coming  up  —  taking  it  out, 
and  waving  it  at  her.  "  One  million  dollars  I  And 
a  little  over  for  a  hat,"  I  said,  kissing  her. 

"  That's  fine,"  she  said,  taking  me  by  the  coat 
lapels.  I  thought  then  there  was  something,  from 
the  way  she  looked ! 

:i  That's  fine.     Come  on  into  the  house." 

As  we  were  going  in,  I  noticed  that  other  paper 
—  that  yellow  one  —  in  her  hand. 

"  I've  got  some  news  for  you,  Bill,"  she  said, 
standing  inside  the  hall.  "  Not  quite  so  good." 

"What  is  it?" 

"  Pasc  Thomas." 

"  Dead !  "  said  I  —  all  at  once  turned  hoarse. 

And  she  bowed  her  head  down. 

"  Oh,  Bill,"  she  said,  grabbing  me  like  a  child  in 


Two  Pieces  of  Paper  355 

the  dark.     "  I'm  —  I'm  so  thankful  it  wasn't  you!  " 

And  she  started  crying  a  little. 

"  Pasc  Thomas !  "  I  said,  looking  off  over  her 
head.  My  lips  were  kind  of  numb. 

We  stood  there  quite  awhile,  then  I  looked  down 
—  happened  to.  Those  two  pieces  of  paper  —  the 
white  one  and  the  yellow  one  —  had  fallen  from 
our  hands  and  lay  there  together  on  the  floor. 

"  I  tell  you  what  I'd  do,"  said  Polly,  that  next 
week  after  that  —  always  planning  and  always  look- 
ing out  for  me.  More  than  ever  nowl 

"What?  "said  I. 

"  Look,"  she  said.  "  It  isn't  everybody  that 
makes  a  million.  Now  why  don't  you,  while  you're 
resting,  and  it's  all  fresh  in  your  memory,  get  ahold 
of  some  of  these  newspaper  boys  you  know,  and 
dictate  what  you  remember,  and  have  them  fix  it 
up  into  a  story  for  you." 

"  That's  not  so  bad!  "  said  I.  My  digestion  was 
better;  the  doctor  said  I  was  doing  pretty  well. 
But  I  did  hate  to  sit  around  so.  How  I  did  miss 
my  little  old  business!  "That's  not  a  bad  idea," 
I  told  her. 

"  No,  is  it?  "  she  said.  "  It  would  occupy  your 
mind  —  keep  you  from  sitting  around  smoking  too 
much  —  get  you  interested  in  something  before  we 
go  off  traveling." 

"  It  might  at  that,"  said  I,  thinking. 

"  A  good  plain  story,  in  good  plain  language,  for 
ordinary  plain-spoken  people  like  us  to  read.  And 
I've  got  a  name  for  it!  "  she  said. 


356     The  Biography  of  a  Million  Dollars 

"What's  that?" 

"  You  know  all  those  biographies  they  get  out. 
About  different  men?  All  the  things  they've  done, 
and  are  responsible  for?  Well,  I'd  have  this  dif- 
ferent from  that." 

"How?" 

"  I'd  call  it  the  biography  of  a  million  dollars. 
Not  just  the  story  of  a  man;  but  the  business  — 
everything. 

"You  —  you  see?"  she  said,  hurrying,  explain- 
ing. "  Make  it  a  little  different  from  these  things 
you  read  in  the  biographies,  or  the  newspapers  when 
a  rich  man  dies.  Show  how  it  really  happened." 

"  I  God,  yes,"  I  said,  sitting  up.  "  You'd  think 
to  read  one  of  those  things  —  that  some  of  those 
old  devils  with  square  chin  whiskers  just  reached 
out  and  took  up  a  piece  of  mud  and  made  the  world 
out  of  it,  with  their  own  hands  —  alone." 

'  Yes  —  yes.  That's  what  I  meant.  You  try 
it,"  said  Polly.  "  Write  it." 

"  I  will,  I  believe !  "  said  I,  making  up  my  mind. 

So  I  have,  in  a  kind  of  a  way. 

But  the  trouble  is,  I've  only  told  about  half  the 
story  —  not  half.  I  don't  know  about  the  other 
end  —  those  bankers;  those  silent  boys  in  the  banks 
all  over  the  country  —  heading  up  down  there  in 
Wall  Street.  They're  the  fellows  I  want  somebody 
to  tell  me  about  —  those  still-faced  men  that  run 
that  billion-dollar  machine  down  in  Wall  Street  — 
and  grab  off  their  slice  of  everything  that  comes  up 
in  the  country.  They're  the  fellows  we're  all  work- 
ing for  —  if  we  only  knew  it  I 


5WVAD  •  Q 


By  the  author  of  "Limpy" 


THE  HOUSE  OF  WHISPERS 


By   WILLIAM  JOHNSTON 

Illustrated.     12mo.     Cloth.     $1.40  net 


In  this  up-to-date  mystery  story  the  author  has  success- 
fully transplanted  to  a  modern,  luxurious  apartment  house, 
the  interest-inspiring  ghostly  atmosphere  of  a  ruined  castle. 
Rich  old  Rufus  Gaston  and  his  wife,  terrorized  by  the  strange 
happenings  in  the  Dranddeck  just  off  Central  Park,  desert  it, 
leaving  in  charge  their  grandnephew,  Spalding  Nelson.  Be- 
coming acquainted  by  accident  with  Barbara  Bradford,  a 
beautiful  girl  who  lives  in  the  apartment  opposite,  Nelson  is 
involved  with  her  in  a  baffling  web  of  inexplicable  mysteries 
that  are  coupled  with  ghostly  noises,  anonymous  letters, 
embarrassing  circumstances,  seemingly  of  malevolent  design, 
that  culminate  in  the  theft  of  the  Gaston  jewels  and  the  arrest 
of  Nelson  for  murder.  Mr.  Johnston  has  written  a  real  my§- 
tery  story  with  an  original  plot  laid  in  novel  surroundings, 
with  enough  excitement  and  suspense  to  satisfy  the  moat 
exacting  reader  of  entertaining  6ction. 


LITTLE,  BROWN  &  CO.,  PUBLISHERS 

34  BEACON  STREET,  BOSTON 


"•Darby  the  Yank"  fightt  with  the  Tankt 


A  YANKEE  IN  THE 
TRENCHES 


By  CORPORAL  R.  DERBY  HOLMES 

OF   BOSTON 

Latt  of  the  22d  London  Battalion  of  the  Queen  s  Royal  West 
Surrey  Regiment 

12mo.     Illustrated.     $1.35  net 


The  actual  life  of  a  soldier  on  the  Western  front  in  billets, 
in  the  trenches,  over  the  top,  across  no-man's  land  and  in 
hand-to-hand  conflicts  with  the  Germans  is  here  vividly  re- 
lated by  a  gallant  young  American  who  fought  in  the  English 
army,  until,  twice  wounded,  he  was  invalided  home.  Cor- 
poral Holmes  fought  in  the  battles  of  the  Somme  where  he 
witnessed  the  first  of  the  tanks  in  action.  He  participated  in 
thrilling  charges  and  he  only  ceased  "strafing  the  Hun"  when 
wounded  and  sent  back  to  "Blighty."  He  tells  his  many  and 
varied  experiences  in  trench  and  billets  in  a  straightforward 
manner — experiences  just  like  those  our  United  States  troops 
are  undergoing  in  France.  This  is  not  a  book  that  depicts 
mainly  the  horrors  of  war,  for  the  lighter  side  is  adequately 
presented  by  this  soldier  boy.  It  is  a  narrative  to  stir  the 
heart  and  kindle  the  imagination  of  the  reader. 


LITTLE,  BROWN  &  CO.,  PUBLISHERS 
34  BEACON  STBEET,  BOSTON 


